vTc/^ 


LEGENDS 


OF 


LOVE  AND  CHIVALRY, 


of 


THE 


CHEVALIERS  OF  FEANCE 


FROM 


THE  CRUSADERS  TO  THE  MARECHALS  OF  LOUIS  XIV, 


BY 

HENRY  WILLIAM  HERBERT, 

AUTHOR   OP   "THE   CAVALIERS  OF  ENGLAND"  — "  THE   KNIGHTS  OF  ENGLAND,  FRANCE, 

AND  SCOTLAND"— "  THE  PURITANS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND"— "MARJWADUKE  WYVIL,"  ETC. 


EEDFIELD, 

110   AND    112   NASSAU    STREET,    NEW    YORK. 
1853. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1852, 

BY  J.  S.  REDF1ELD, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  and  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


STEREOTYPED    BY    C.    C.   SAVAGE, 

13  Chambers  Street,  N.  Y. 


ps  n 


CM 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

SIR  HUGDES  DE  COUCY  :  A  CHIVALRIC  LEGEND  OF  THE  Low 

COUNTRIES - 7 

EUSTACHE  DE  ST.  PlERRE,  OR  THE  SURRENDER  OF  PARIS 107 

THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC  :    A  SUPERSTITIOUS 

LEGEND  OF  THE  ENGLISH  WARS  IN  FRANCE 115 

HAMILTON  OF  BOTHWELHAUGH,  OR  THE  MASSACRE  OF  ST. 

BARTHOLOMEW:    A  DARK  SCENE  IN  PARIS 247 

AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG,  OR  THE  REED-SHAKEN- 

BY-THE-WlND .    309 


$529853 


SIR  HUGUES  DE  COUCY ; 

a  (Ctynuilrir  J*gwft  nf  tjp  Jtm 


1200. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE    ROUTIER. 

IT  wanted  an  hour  or  two  perhaps  of  sunset,  on  a  lowering 
September  evening,  when  a  small  group  of  men  and  horses 
were  assembled  on  an  elevated  knoll,  commanding  an  exten 
sive  view  of  the  country,  which  at  that  period  was  mostly  cov 
ered  by  unbroken  forest ;  although  a  large  and  seemingly  much- 
travelled  road  could  be  seen  at  intervals,  for  a  distance  of 
many  miles,  with  here  and  there  the  dark  square  outlines  of  a 
church-tower,  or  of  some  castellated  mansion,  distinctly  visible 
above  the  trees,  among  which  the  causeway  wandered  devious. 
All  else  was  wild  and  savage.  The  huge  beech  forest,  a  por 
tion  of  the  great  wood  of  Ardennes,  which,  little  circumscribed 
in  that  day  of  its  limits  as  described  by  the  great  Roman, 
swept  off  in  solid  masses  to  the  eastward,  to  join  beyond  the 
Rhine  the  vaster  solitudes  of  the  Hercynian  forest  —  clothed 
every  hill  and  hollow  for  many  a  league  around  with  dense 
and  shadowy  woodland.  Except  the  line  of  road,  and  the 


8  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

scattered  buildings,  and  here  and  there  a  wreath  of  smoke 
curling  up  blue  and  ghostly  in  the  distance,  above  some  sylvan 
hamlet  or  small  borough  town,  nothing  could  be  discovered 
even  to  the  misty,  ill-defined  horizon,  but  one  vast  sea  of  wav 
ing  branches,  now  tinged  with  the  first  solemn  tints  of  autumn. 
The  knoll,  which  had  been  occupied  by  the  party  grouped 
around  its  summit  as  a  post  of  observation,  was  admirably 
adapted  for  that  purpose  ;  rising  abruptly  from  the  top  of  a  gen 
tle  hill,  to  the  height  of  at  least  two  hundred  feet,  and  being 
the  only  elevation  of  the  kind  for  many  a  league  of  distance. 
The  top  of  it  was  bare,  and  covered  with  thin  grass  sprouting 
up  scantily  from  the  crevices  of  the  sandstone  rock  which 
composed  it,  but  the  sides  were  well  clothed  with  luxuriant 
coppice,  high  enough  to  conceal  the  head  of  the  tallest  man, 
and  very  intricate  and  tangled.  Immediately  around  its  base 
the  high-road  wheeled,  after  ascending  the  gentle  slope  on  the 
eastern  side,  and  was  soon  lost  to  view  in  a  deep-wooded  val 
ley  to  the  westward. 

The  group  which  occupied  this  station  consisted  of  four 
armed  men  with  their  horses  ;  beside  a  monk,  as  he  appeared 
from  his  gray  frock  and  tonsured  head,  mounted  upon  a  sleek, 
well-favored  mule.  The  principal  personage  of  the  party  was 
one  well  meriting  from  his  appearance,  for  it  was  singular  in 
the  extreme,  a  brief  description.  He  was  above  six  feet  in 
height,  and  gaunt  almost  to  meagerness,  but  with  extremely 
broad,  square  shoulders,  and  arms  of  disproportionate  length 
terminating  in  huge,  bony  hands.  His  face  was  even  more  re 
markable  than  his  person,  and  his  accoutrements,  and  dress 
perhaps  exceeded  both.  He  had  a  very  high  but  narrow  fore 
head,  ploughed  deeply  by  the  lines  of  fierce  and  fiery  passions. 
His  deep  set  eye  (for  he  had  but  one,  the  left  having  been 
utterly  destroyed  by  a  wound,  the  scar  of  which  severing  the 
eyebrow  near  the  insertion  of  the  nose,  seamed  his  whole 


THE    ROUGE    BATARD.  9 

cheek,  and  might  be  traced  by  a  white  line  far  through  the 
thick  and  matted  beard  which  clothed  his  chin  jaw),  gleamed 
out  with  a  sinister  and  lurid  glare  from  beneath  his  shaggy, 
overhanging  brow.  His  nose  had  been  originally  of  the  keenest 
aquiline,  high,  thin,  and  well  shaped ;  but  its  bridge  had  been 
broken  years  before  by  a  cross-cut  which  had  completely  sev 
ered  it,  and  which,  though  skilfully  healed,  had  left  a  strange 
and  disfiguring  depression.  His  mouth,  as  far  as  could  be 
judged  from  the  vast  crop  of  mustache  and  beard  which  cov 
ered  all  the  lower  half  of  his  countenance  with  a  tangled  mass 
of  red,  grizzled  hair,  was  well  cut,  bold,  and  decided,  but  the 
whole  aspect  of  the  man  was  strangely  repulsive  and  disgust 
ing.  There  was  an  air  of  reckless  and  undaunted  courage,  it 
is  true,  stamped  on  his  scarred  and  weather-beaten  features  ; 
but  it  was  their  sole  redeeming  trait,  and  it,  too,  was  so  mixed 
up  and  blended  with  effrontery,  and  pride,  and  cruelty,  and 
brute  licentiousness,  that  it  was  lost  and  obscured,  except  when 
it  would  flash  out  at  rare  intervals  in  time  of  deadly  peril,  and 
banish  for  a  moment  by  its  brightness  the  clouds  of  baser  pas 
sions.  His  dress  had  been  in  the  first  instance,  a  splended  suit 
of  complete  tilting  armor  of  the  most  ponderous  description ; 
but  many  parts  of  it  had  been  lost  or  broken,  and  replaced  by 
others  of  inferior  quality  and  construction.  Thus  while  he 
still  retained  the  corslet  and  plastron  with  the  gorget  and  vant 
braces  of  fluted  Milan  steel,  painted  to  suit  the  caprice  of  the 
wearer,  of  a  deep  blood-red,  his  cuishes,  and  the  splents  which 
protected  his  leg  from  the  knee  downward,  were  of  plain  Flem 
ish  iron,  once  brightly  polished,  but  now  sordid  and  defaced 
with  rust,  and  recent  blood-stains.  His  head  was  covered 
by  a  heavy  casque,  with  cerveilliere  and  avantaille  of  steel,  of 
a  different  construction  from  his  breastplate,  but  like  it  lac 
quered  with  dark  crimson,  and  throwing  a  dreadful  and  unnat 
ural  reflection  from  its  raised  visor  over  a  face  which  needed 
1* 


10  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

no  additions  to  render  it  in  the  last  degree  appalling.  He  had 
an  iron  chain  across  his  shoulders  instead  of  a  baldric,  to  which 
was  attached  a  long  two-edged  straight  broad-sword.  The 
belt  about  his  waist  was  filled  with  knives  and  daggers  of  every 
shape  and  size  ;  and  pitched  into  the  ground  beside  his  horse, 
a  powerful  and  active  charger,  with  a  steel  demipique  and  an 
axe  slung  at  the  saddlebow,  but  unencumbered  by  defensive 
armor,  stood  his  long  lance  with  its  steel  head  and  crimson 
pennon.  He  had  gauntlets  on  his  hands,  and  spurs  upon  his 
heels,  but  they  were  not  the  gilded  spurs  of  knighthood,  nor 
was  there  any  plume  or  crest  on  his  burgonet,  nor  any  bearings 
on  the  plain,  blood-red  shield  which  hung  about  his  neck. 
The  other  three  armed  persons,  who  stood  at  little  way  aloof, 
were  ordinary  men-at-arms  of  the  period,  ruffianly-looking  fel 
lows  enough,  and  with  none  of  that  gallant  and  spirited  de 
meanor  which  marked  the  chivalric  soldier  of  the  day.  They 
were  powerful  athletic  men,  however,  strongly  and  completely, 
though  variously,  armed  one  with  the  corslet  and  steel  bonnet, 
brassards  and  taslets,  of  a  well-appointed  trooper,  one  with  the 
hauberk  and  mail  hose  which  were  becoming  at  that  time  some 
what  obsolete  —  and  the  third  in  a  brigantine  or  shirt  of  light 
chain  armor  on  the  body,  his  limbs  protected  by  the  usual  de 
fences  of  plate,  and  his  head  by  a  stout  iron  morion.  They  all 
wore  broad-swords  and  long  lances,  and  several  daggers  in 
their  belts  ;  beside  which  they  had  each  a  long  bow  and  a 
sheaf  of  arrows  at  his  back.  Their  horses  were  stout,  active 
animals,  in  good  condition,  though  somewhat  low  in  flesh,  and 
the  whole  appearance  of  both  men  and  beasts,  although  deci 
dedly  irregular,  was  soldier-like  and  serviceable.  The  priest 
who  sat  upon  his  mule,  chatting  sociably  with  the  leader  of 
the  party,  was  a  round  oily-looking  little  figure,  with  a  soft, 
sneering  smile  and  a  twinkle  of  marvellous  shrewdness  in  his 
quick,  dark  eye  ;  altogether,  however,  he  was  as  unclerical 


THE    ROBBER-PRIEST.  11 

looking  a  personage  as  ever  drew  a  cowl  over  a  tonsored  head, 
and  it  is  probable  at  least,  that  had  his  garment  been  subjected 
to  a  close  scrutiny,  some  most  unpriest-like  appendages  might 
there  have  been  encountered. 

"Well,  priest  —  well!  well!"  said  the  red  leader,  interrupt 
ing  him  impatiently,  in  the  middle  of  a  prolix  description,  "  but 
what  said  Talebard  ?" 

"  Talebard  Talebardin,"  answered  the  little  monk,  pompously, 
"  sent  greeting  to  the  Rouge  Batard,  and  prayed  that  he  would 
give  him  the  rencontre,  with  as  many  men  and  horses  as  he  can 
make,  at  the  stone  cross  in  the  back\vood  near  Braine-la-Leud, 
on  the  third  morning.  It  seems  he  hath  got  trdings  of  a  strong 
castle,  weakly  guarded,  with  a  fair  chatelaine  within,  and  store 
of  wealth  to  boot.  Her  lord  hath  ridden  forth  to  join  John 
Lackland  at  Mirepoix !" 

"  By  God's  head,  and  I  will,"  returned  the  other,  "  and  there 
is  little  time  enough  to  spare.  The  third  morning — may  the 
fiend  else  receive  me! — is  to-morrow.  Ho!  Jean  Lenoir 
draw  your  belt  tight,  and  mount  your  trotting  gelding,  and  ride 
for  life  to  Wavre  on  the  Dyle,  Bras-de-fer  must  be  there,  ere 
this,  with  thirty  lances  —  spare  not  for  spurring,  and  bid  him 
bring  his  men  up  with  all  speed,  and  meet  me  at  the  broken 
bridge!  You  know  the  place — begone!  I  look  for  you  ere 
midnight." 

"  But  my  fair  son  and  penitent,"  interposed  the  monk,  "  how, 
if  we  spare  Lenoir,  shall  we  be  able  to  deal  with  the  goodly 
company  of  merchants,  and  win  the  pretty  demoiselles  I  told 
you  of,  and  the  rich  sumpter  mules  ?  we  shall  be  but  three 
men-at-arms,  and  they  have  four  armed  serving-men !" 

"Jean  must  go,  monk,"  the  other  answered  sharply,  "Jean 
must  go,  and  forthwith,  by  God !  but  he  shall  leave  his  bow 
and  shafts  with  you,  and  you  shall  strip  the  gray  frock  off,  and 


12  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

don  the  cold  iron,  as  you  have  done  before! — but  were  the 
demoiselles  so  lovely  ?" 

"  Else  may  I  never  more  kiss  ruby  lips,  or  drain  a  foaming 
flagon,"  answered  the  worthy  monk,  stripping  off,  as  he  spoke, 
his  gray  frock,  and  showing  himself  dressed  in  a  suit  of  close- 
fitting  chamois  leather,  with  a  light  jazeran,  or  coat-of-mail, 
covering  all  his  body,  and  a  belt  round  his  waist,  well  stored 
with  poniards  and  stilettoes.  In  a  moment  or  two  he  had 
rolled  up  his  clerical  dress,  and  deposited  it  in  a  little  wallet 
fastened  to  the  crupper  of  his  saddle  ;  from  which,  after  a 
moment's  fumbling,  he  brought  out  a  strong  pothelmed  of  black 
iron.  With  this  he  speedily  covered  his  shaven  crown,  and 
taking  the  bow  and  quiver,  which  the  trooper  resigned  to  him 
as  he  spurred  his  horse  down  the  side  of  the  hill  appeared  in 
a  style  far  more  suitable  to  his  real  profession  than  he  had  done 
before  the  alteration  of  his  dress. 

Scarcely  had  he  finished  his  preparations,  before,  casting 
his  eye  down  the  road  to  the  eastward,  he  exclaimed :  "  Now, 
by  the  good  saint  Martin! — here  come  the  knaves.  Look 
here,  Messire  !  here,  over  that  big  chestnut,  you  may  perceive 
the  fluttering  of  their  garments  down  in  the  valley  of  the  stream  ! 
We  have  no  time  to  spare — they  will  be  here  within  ten  min 
utes." 

"  Right,  by  our  lady  !  Right  monk !"  cried  the  Rouge  Batard, 
"  and  for  your  tidings  you  shall  choose  you  a  paramour,  as 
soon  as  I  am  served." 

"  Not  so,  by  God !"  interrupted  one  of  the  others,  "  it  is  my 
turn  this  bout — the  unfrocked  priest  gets  ever  in  the  luck  on't. 
When  we  look  Ferte-sous-jouarre,  last  Whitsuntide,  the  bright 
est  eye  and  the  rosiest  cheek  of  the  lot  fell  to  our  confrere 
Benedict !" 

"  Look  sharp,  lad  —  look  sharp,  Andre,"  returned  the  chief, 
with  a  sinister  glare  of  his  single  eye,  and  a  malignant  sneer, 


THE    AMBUSH.  13 

"  lest  instead  of  red  lips,  and  white  arms  to  clasp  your  neck, 
you  find  a  hempen  knot  to  grace  it,  for  by  the  God  that  made 
you,  dispute  one  other  word  of  mine,  and  you  shall  swing  for 
it !  To  horse  !  to  horse  !"  he  added,  seeing  that  his  reproof 
was  effectual,  and  that  no  further  admonitions  were  required. 
"  You,  monk,  lead,  Andre  and  Le  Balafre  down  to  the  thicket 
just  below  the  angle  of  the  road  at  the  hill  foot.  The  moment 
they  come,  give  them  a  flight  of  arrows,  and  see  you  make 
sure  of  the  men-at-arms.  Shoot  each  into  the  face,  under  the 
eyeball,  if  you  may  ;  and  then  charge,  sword  in  hand,  and  shout 
our  war-cry.  I  will  be  with  you  on  the  word.  Away  !  be 
steady,  sure,  and  silent !" 

Not  a  word  more  was  needed ;  the  priest  and  his  compan 
ions  scrambled  down  into  the  road,  and  rode  off  as  quickly  as 
was  consistent  with  complete  silence,  while  he  who  was  called 
the  Rouge  Batard  led  his  horse  slowly  down  the  side  of  the 
steep  knoll ;  and,  having  reached  the  road  just  as  his  followers 
disappeared  round  an  abrupt  turn  of  the  causeway,  tightened 
his  girths  carefully,  and  sprang  into  the  saddle  without  putting 
hand  to  mane,  or  foot  to  stirrup,  his  horse  standing  motionless 
aH  the  while  as  a  carved  statue.  Settling  himself  firmly  in  his 
demipique,  he  lowered  the  visor  over  his  hideous  features, 
loosened  his  broadsword  in  its  scabbard,  and,  seeing  that  the 
battle-axe  which  was  suspended  at  the  saddle-bow  was  ready 
to  his  grasp,  laid  his  long  lance  into  its  rest,  and,  keeping  the 
point  elevated,  walked  his  horse  gently  down  the  sandy  road. 

His  seat  was  firm  and  graceful ;  his  hand  light,  delicate,  and 
easy ;  and  as  the  noble  animal  which  bore  him  curvetted  down 
the  gentle  slope,  despite  the  singular  color  of  his  harness,  its 
want  of  complete  uniformity  and  neatness,  and  the  ruffianism 
of  his  whole  appearance,  it  could  not  be  denied  that  he  was  an 
accomplished  horseman,  and  altogether  a  showy,  martial-look 
ing  soldier. 


14  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

In  a  few  moments  he  reached  the  spot  where  he  had  placed 
his  ambuscade,  and  halted.  It  was  indeed  a  place  adapted  for 
the  purpose  —  the  road,  which  here  was  perfectly  level,  ran 
between  almost  impervious  thickets  of  hazel,  ash,  and  alders, 
much  interfaced  with  creepers  and  wild  briers  ;  and  was  over 
hung*  with  timber-trees,  so  that  at  noonday  it  was  ever  twilight 
there  ;  and  in  the  early  evening,  profound  darkness.  The 
causeway  at  this  point  turned  suddenly,  directly  at  right  angles, 
so  that  of  two  parties  travelling  in  opposite -directions,  neither 
could  see  or  suspect  the  approach  of  the  other  till  they  were 
in  close  contact ;  and  here,  well  knowing  that  his  men  lay  in 
the  thicket  close  before  him,  the  Routier  halted,  with  his  lance 
in  the  rest,  and  eye,  ear,  heart,  on  the  alert,  ready  to  dash  in 
on  the  travellers  at  the  first  signal  of  the  robber-priest.  His 
horse,  endowed  as  it  would  seem  with  an  instinctive  knowl 
edge  of  what  was  in  the  wind,  did  not  so  much  as  champ  its 
bits,  much  less  paw  up  the  ground,  or  neigh,  or  whinny.  Not 
a  sound  was  to  be  heard  in  the  wooded  defile  except  the  hoarse 
cooing  of  a  distant  wood  pigeon,  the  wild,  laughter-like  scream 
of  the  green-headed  woodpecker,  and  the  tinkling  gurgle  of  a 
little  rivulet  which  crossed  the  road  some  fifty  yards  below.  * 

The  company  which  was  approaching,  and  which  had  been 
accurately  reconnoitred  by  the  priest  during  their  noonti'de 
halt  at  the  little  village  of  Merk-Braine,  consisted  of  no  less 
than  twelve  individuals,  beside  a  long  train  of  sumpter  mutes 
loaded  with  costly  merchandise.  First  rode,  well  mounted  on 
stout,  black,  Flemish  horses,  four  of  the  ordinary  armed  ser 
vants  or  retainers  of  the  day,  dressed  in  strong  doublets  of 
buff-leather,  with  morions  and  breastplates,  and  heavy  halberds 
in  their  hands,  arid  long  swords  girded  on  their  thighs.  Close 
upon  these  came  three  persons,  the  principals  evidently  of  the 
party,  riding  abreast ;  and  as  it  would  seem  engaged  in  earnest 
conversation.  He  on  the  right  hand  sffle-was  a  tall,  portly 


THE    FLEMING    MERCHANT.  15 

figure,  with  a  broad  brow  and  handsome  features  ;  but  his  hair 
was  already  tinged  with  many  a  streak  of  gray,  and  the  deep 
lines  of  thought  and  care  upon  his  cheek  and  forehead  told  as 
distinctly  as  words  could  have  done,  that  he  had  spent  long 
years  amid  the  toils  and  trials  of  the  world  ;  and  that  two  thirds 
at  least  of  his  mortal  course  had  been  run  through  whether  for 
good  or  evil.  Next  to  him,  curbing  lightly  a  beautiful  Spanish 
jennet,  there  rode  as  lovely  a  girl  as  ever  man's  eyes  looked 
upon.  Still  in  her  early  youth,  there  was  no  stain,  no  blight 
of  sin  or  passion  on  her  sweet  innocent  features  ;  her  full, 
black  eye  danced  with  an  eloquent  and  lightsome  mirth,  and 
there  was  a  continual  smile  on  her  ripe,  ruby  lips ;  her  form 
was  tall  and  slender,  yet  exquisitely  rounded  in  all  its  flowing 
outlines  ;  and  so  symmetrically  full,  that  her  young,  glowing 
bust  might  have  been  chosen  for  a  sculptor's  model.  As  near 
to  her  upon  the  left  as  he  could  guide  his  eager  horse,  hang 
ing  on  every  word  she  uttered  as,  though  his  soul  were  bal 
anced  on  the  low,  soft  sound,  and  gazing  into  her  eyes  with  an 
impassioned,  earnest  tenderness,  was  a  fine,  noble  looking 
youth  of  twenty-five  or  twenty-six  years  ;  handsomely  clad  in 
a  pourpoint  of  morone  colored  velvet,  with  a  rapier  at  his  side, 
and  a  richly-mounted  poniard  in  his  girdle.  These  were  again 
followed  by  two  serving-women,  fair,  buxom-looking  lasses, 
with  the  dark  eyes  and  rich  complexions  of  the  sunny  south, 
mid  an  old  steward,  or  major-domo,  riding  unarmed  beside 
them.  The  train  was  brought  up  by  two  common  grooms,  or 
serving-men,  without  any  weapons,  either  offensive  or  defen 
sive,  driving  a  string  of  laden  mules,  the  whole  forming  the 
retinue,  as  the  quick  eye  of  the  Routier's  emissary  had  not 
failed  to  detect,  of  a  rich  Fleming  merchant,  travelling  with 
his  family  and  chattels  toward  the  capital  of  France. 

Just  as  they  neared  the  lurking-place  of  the  banditti,  the 
fair  girl  raised  her  eyes  to  the  fast  darkening  heaven,  and  a 


16  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

slight  shiver  running  through  her  graceful  form,  "  Uncle,"  she 
said,  addressing  the  elder  rider,  "  I  would  we  were  at  our  halt 
ing-place  for  the  night.  I  know  not  why  it  is  —  for  never  did 
I  feel  aught  like  it  before — but  there  comes  over  me  a  secret 
dread  and  horror,  as  I  look  out  into  these  dreary  woods,  and 
see  the  shadows  of  approaching  night  darkening  the  giant  trees. 
Is  there  no  peril  here  ?" 

"  None,  my  girl,"  replied  the  portly  burgher,  "  no  peril,  or  I 
would  not  have  exposed  you  to  it.  That  fierce  marauder,  Tal- 
ebard  Talebardin,  as  he  calls  himself,  and  his  more  barbarous 
associate,  the  Red  Bastard,  have  marched  away,  as  I  learned 
beyond  all  doubt,  ere  we  crossed  the  frontier,  to  join  the  bad 
king  John,  at  Mirepoix,  where  he  is  even  now  in  arms  against 
his  brother's  son.  And  the  great  Philip,  as  I  hear,  is  hurry 
ing  hitherward  with  such  a  train  of  bannerets  and  barons  as 
has  made  all  the  roads  secure  as  the  streets  of  Paris.  But  we 
will  trot  on,  for  the  night  is  darkening,  and  we  have  four 
leagues  yet  to  traverse  ere  we  reach  Braine-la  —  God  of  heav 
en  !  what  have  we  here  !" 

His  last  words  were  caused  by  a  fierce  and  discordant  yell 
from  the  thicket,  accompanied  by  the  simultaneous  twang  of 
three  bowstrings,  and  the  deadly  whistling  of  the  gray  goose 
shafts  ;  and  almost  instantly  —  before,  indeed,  tha  words  had 
well  left  his  lips — three  of  the  four  men-at-arms  fell  headlong 
to  the  earth,  each  shot  in  the  face  with  a  barbed  arrow,  and, 
after  a  few  seconds'  struggle,  lay  cold  and  senseless  as  the 
clods  around  them.  The  remaining  trooper  set  spurs  to  his 
horse,  and  drove  furiously  forward,  accompanied  by  the  char 
gers  of  his  slains  companions,  which,  freed  from  all  restraint 
and  mad  with  terror,  tossing  their  heads  aloft,  and  yerking  out 
their  heels,  dashed  diverse  into  the  deep  forest. 

What  has  occupied  many  lines  to  relate,  occurred  almost 
with  the  speed  of  light ;  and,  while  the  long  ear-piercing  shriek 


17 

yet  quivered  on  the  lips  of  Marguerite  Beaufroy,  her  uncle 
snatched  her  bridle-rein,  and,  putting  spurs  to  his  own  horse, 
struck  into  a  furious  gallop,  crying,  "  Ride,  ride  !  for  life  !  for 
life  !  we  are  waylaid  —  God  aid  us  !"  But  as  he  did  so,  from 
the  thicket  forth  charged  Le  Balafre  and  his  companion,  fol 
lowed  by  the  pretended  monk.  Cutting  into  the  middle  of  the 
train  they  separated  the  younger  merchant  from  his  fair  cousin 
and  his  father,  rode  down  the  old  steward,  and  one  attacking 
the  youth,  sword  in  hand,  while  the  others  coolly  cut  down  and 
stabbed  the  unarmed  servitors,  were  masters  of  the  field  in  five 
minutes'  space.  For  a  moment  or  more  it  seemed  as  though 
the  first  fugitives  were  about  to  escape  ;  for  they  had  already 
interposed  a  considerable  space  between  themselves  and  the 
ruffians,  and  were  just  wheeling  round  the  angle  of  the  wood, 
when,  full  in  front  rose  the  appalling  war-cry,  well  known  by 
fame  through  every  province  of  fair  France,  "  Ha  !  ha  !  Saint 
Diable  pour  le  Rouge  Batard  !"  —  and  as  the  awful  sound  smote 
on  the  ears  of  the  trembling  voyagers,  a  scene  of  no  less  terror 
presented  itself  to  their  eyes,  the  fearful  form  of  the  Red  Rou- 
tier  charging  in  full  career  against  their  servant,  who  scarce 
had  power  to  wield  his  halberd,  so  utterly  had  terror  overcome 
his  heart  and  palsied  his  strong  arm.  One  instant — one  loud 
thundering  crash,  with  a  wild  cry  of  mortal  anguish  ringing 
above  the  clang  and  clatter — arid  the  short  strife  was  over. 
Man  and  horse  rolled  in  the  dust,  one  to  rise  no  more,  and  still 
with  lance  unbroken  and  in  rest,  its  point  and  pennon  reeking 
with  the  hot  life-blood,  the  Rouge  Batard  came  on.  But  as  he 
came,  he  saw  that  all  the  strife  was  over,  excepting  the  pro 
tracted  struggle  between  La  Balafre  and  the  young  lover.  He 
jerked  his  lance  up  quickly,  when  its  head  was  within  a  foot 
of  the  eld^r  merchant's  breast ;  and  curbed  his  charger  up  so 
suddenly  that  he  stood  motionless,  thrown  almost  on  his  haunch 
es,  scarce  a  yard  distant  from  the  Spanish  jennet  of  the  unhappy 


18  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

Marguerite.  "Hold  your  hands! — all!"  he  shouted,  "hear 
you  me  not,  La  Balafre  ?  Hold  your  hands,  man !  And  you 
Sir  Fool,  down  with  your  silly  sword,  before  worse  come  of 
it !  Sweet  lady,  I  salute  you,"  he  continued,  "  by  God  but  thou 
art  wondrous  fair,  and  worthy  to  be,  as  thou  shalt,  ere  long,  the 
world-famed  mistress  of  Le  Rouge  Batard.  You  sirs,"  he  went 
on  speaking  very  rapidly,  addressing  the  merchants,  "  down 
from  your  horses,  on  the  instant !  Point  out  to  these  good  men 
the  costliest  and  least  bulky  of  your  wares,  yield  up  your  purses 
and  your  jewels,  and,  seeing  we  have  lost  no  blood,  we  will  be 
merciful  to  day,  and  suffer  you  to  go  at  large,  reserving  to  our 
selves  your  demoiselles,  whom,  by  the  spirit  of  thunder,  we 
will  console  right  worthily." 

"  That  thou  shalt  never  do,  dog !"  cried  the  young  man,  aim 
ing  with  the  words  a  tremendous  blow  at  the  head  of  the 
Routier.  Sparks  of  fire  flashed  from  the  dinted  casque  of  the 
Red  Bastard,  and  his  head  was  bent  forward  almost  to  the 
saddle-bow ;  but  ere  his  bold  assailant  could  repeat  the  blow 
he  had  set  spurs  to  his  charger,  and,  letting  fall  his  own  lance, 
seized  the  youth  by  the  throat  with  the  tremendous  gripe  of 
his  gauntlet,  and,  throttling  him  for  a  moment  savagely,  lifted 
him  clear  out  of  the  saddle  and  hurled  him  to  the  earth  with 
such  violence  that  he  lay  stunned  and  motionless.  "  Take 
that,"  he  said,  with  a  bitter  sneer,  "  take  that,  to  teach  you 
manners  !  And,  since  you  deign  not  to  accept  our  mercy,  by 
Heaven,  you  shall  fare  the  worse  of  it.  Hold  my  horse,  monk," 
he  added,  as  he  leaped  to  the  ground,  and  stood  up  to  the  pros 
trate  youth.  "  Who  is  that  groaning  there  ?"  he  exclaimed,  as 
a  faint  acclamation  of  pain  reached  his  ear,  from  the  old  stew 
ard,  who,  sorely  bruised  and  shaken  by  his  fall,  was  just  re 
covering  his  senses.  "  Par  Dieu  !  I  can  not  hear  myself  think 
for  the  noise.  Jump  down  from  your  horse,  Le  Balafre,  and 
cut  his  throat  at  once  ;  cut  it  close  under  the  jaws,  down  to 


A    VAIN    APPEAL.  19 

the  back-bone  ;  that  will  stop  his  cursed  clamor ;  and  then 
come  hither  with  your  knife." 

The  brutal  mandate  was  executed  in  an  instant,  despite  the 
feeble  struggles  of  the  old  man,  and  the  screams  of  the  ser 
vant-girls,  who  were  so  near  the  wretched  being  that  his  blood 
literally  spirted  over  their  feet  and  the  hems  of  their  dresses  ; 
and  then,  bearing  the  deadly  instrument,  a  huge  double-edged 
knife,  with  a  blade  of  a  hand's-breadth,  and  two-feet  in  length, 
still  reeking  with  the  evidence  of  slaughter,  the  scarred  and 
savage  ruffian  approached  his  chief,  who,  with  his  vizor  raised, 
stood  perfectly  unmoved  and  calm,  contemplating  his  victims 
with  an  air  of  quiet,  easy  satisfaction-.  The  man  looked  at 
him  for  a  sign,  and  he  replied  to  the  look ;  "  Wait !  wait  a  little 
while !  he  is  coming  to  —  and  it  were  pity  he  should  die  with 
out  feeling  it !" 

"O  God!  0  God!  be  merciful — spare  him,  thou  man  of 
blood — spare  him,  and  I  will  bless  thee,  pray  for  thee,  love 
thee !  yea,  bribe  thee  to  the  deed  of  mercy,  with  all  I  hold  on 
earth !"  exclaimed  the  lovely  Marguerite,  flinging  herself  from 
her  horse  before  his  knees,  and  clasping  them  in  agony  as  she 
grovelled  at  his  feet ;  while  her  uncle  heaped  offer  upon  offer 
of  ransoms  that  on  a  foughten  field  would  have  bought  dearly 
an  earl's  freedom. 

"  By  all  that's  holy,"  answered  the  brute,  "  but  thou  art  won 
drous  beautiful !"  and  with  the  words  he  raised  her  from  the 
ground,  and  held  her  for  a  moment's  space  at  his  arms'  length, 
gazing  with  a  critical  eye  into  her  pale  but  lovely  face  ;  then 
drawing  her  suddenly  to  him,  he  clasped  her  to  his  breast  in 
the  closest  embrace,  and  pressed  a  long,  full  kiss  on  her  reluc 
tant  lips.  "  Thou  art  most  wondrous  fair,  and  thy  lip  is  as  soft 
and  fragrant  as  a  rosebud !  I  would  do  much  to  earn  the  love 
of  one  so  beautiful ;  but  thou  hast  nothing,  sweet  one,  where 
with  to  bribe  me,  save  thine  own  person,  and  that  is  mine  al- 


20 


SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 


ready,  as  thou  shalt  learn  ere  long !  Cease  thy  absurd,  unmean 
ing  prayers,  old  man,  they  are  of  no  avail.  Balafre,  the  good 
youth,  is  alive  enough  to  feel  now  !"  and,  at  his  word,  the  ruffian 
knelt  down  coolly,  and  plunged  his  weapon  three  several  times 
into  the  bosom  of  his  unresisting  victim,  while  with,  one  fearful, 
shivering  shriek,  Marguerite  fainted  in  the  arms  of  the  Red 
Bastard. 

"That  is  well!  that  is  well!  now  seeing  that  this  worthy 
senior  hath  somewhat  more  of  sense  than  young  hopeful,  we 
will  give  him  a  choice  for  life.  Gag  him,  and  tie  him  to  yon 
chestnut-tree  ;  if  he  survive  till  morning,  without  the  wolves 
discovering  him,  he  may  live  yet  many  a  day.  Look  sharp, 
my  men  !  Bring  out  your  mule,  monk,  and  bear  me  this  fair 
dame  before  you.  Carefully,  sir — and,  mark  me,  see  that  you 
do  not  dare  so  much  as  look  or  breathe  upon  her  lovingly ! 
The  maids  will  ride  on  with  us,  on  their  own  hackneys  ;  and, 
hark  ye,  silly  hussies,  no  wrong  shall  be  done  to  you,  save  that 
women  in  their  hearts  deem  no  wrong,  phrase  it  as  they  may ! 
so  ye  keep  silent !  but  just  shriek  once  again,  and  ye  shall 
share  the  fate  of  that  old  dotard.  Andre,  and  you,  Le  Balafre, 
bring  up  the  mules.  Away  !  away  !  or  we  shall  scarce  meet 
Talebard  by  daybreak !" 

His  orders  were  performed  upon  the  instant,  and  to  the  very 
letter.  The  terrified  girls  ceased  from  their  painful  sobbings  ; 
the  old  man,  in  despite  of  desperate  resistance,  was  made  fast 
to  the  tree  ;  and  the  monk,  bearing  on  his  saddle-bow  the  lovely 
maiden,  still,  happily  for  her,  insensible,  the  Rouge  Batard 
mounted  his  potent  charger,  and,  with  his  captives  and  his 
booty,  rode  at  a  rapid  pace  into  the  forest,  the  depths  of  which 
were  now  as  dark  as  midnight. 


THE    HOSTELRIE    OF    MERK-BRAINE.  21 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    KNIGHT. 

THERE  is  a  little  hostelrie  in  the  village  of  Merk-Braine, 
which  bears  the  marks  to  this  day  of  the  most  extreme  antiquity  ; 
and  which,  if  it  be  not  the  same  that  offered  hospitality  to  trav 
ellers  in  the  days  of  Philip  Augustus — those  glorious  days  of 
old  knight-errantry  !  —  occupies  at  least  the  same  position,  and 
discharges  the  same  functions  now,  as  did  its  scarcely  ruder 
prototype  long  centuries  ago. 

It  was,  at  the  period  of  which  I  write,  a  wretched  clay-built 
hut,  with  unglazed  lattices  ;  a  ragged  porch  of  old  worm-eaten 
timber  ;  a  bush,  or  dray  branch  rather,  over  the  door ;  and  a 
broken  flagon  suspended  from  a  pole  at  the  gable,  to  indicate 
to  passers-by  the  character  of  the  tenement.  Uninviting,  how 
ever,  as  was  the  exterior  of  the  building,  and  unpromising  of 
better  cheer  within,  so  rude  were  the  accommodations  of  the 
age,  and  so  threatening  the  aspect  of  the  evening — for  it  was 
autumn,  and  the  equinoctial  storm,  which  had  for  some  time 
past  been  brewing,  seemed  now  about  to  burst  in  earnest — 
that  an  acclamation  of  pleasure  rose  to  the  lips  of  the  leader 
of  a  little  party  of  horse,  as  he  drew  in  his  bridle  at  the  door, 
and  shouted  for  the  hostler 

He  was  a  tall  and  powerful  man,  of  some  six  or  eight  and 
thirty  years,  with  a  bold,  manly  countenance,  sun-burnt  and 
darkened  by  exposure  to  all  weathers  ;  a  full,  well-opened  eye, 
of  a  bright  sparkling  blue,  and  a  quantity  of  close-curled  auburn 
locks  clustering  round  his  temples.  His  beard  and  mustaches 
— for  he  wore  both — were  considerable  darker  than  his  hair; 


22  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

but  the  latter  were  so  small  and  closely  trimmed,  as  to  detract 
nothing  from  the  effect  of  his  well-cut  firm  mouth,  which  with 
his  ample  brow,  was  decidedly  the  finest  feature  of  his  face. 
His  dress  was  the  superb  attire  of  a  baron  of  that  day  in  his 
complete  war-harness,  except  that  he  wore  on  his  head  only  a 
low  cap  of  black  velvet,  trimmed  round  the  brim  with  ermine, 
while  his  casque  was  suspended  from  the  saddle-bow  of  his 
principal  attendant.  He  was  then  sheathed  from  the  throat 
downward,  in  panoply  of  palated  Milan  steel,  polished  till  it 
glanced  to  every  beam  of  light  like  a  Venetian  mirror ;  yet  it 
glanced  not  with  the  cold  lustre  of  plain  burnished  iron ;  for  in 
the  tempering  of  the  metal,  it  had  been  wrought  to  a  rich,  pur 
plish  blue,  resembling  not  a  little  the  finest  modern  enamel, 
and  was  moreover  engrailed,  to  use  the  technical  term,  with 
threads  of  golden  wire,  so  exquisitely  welded,  in  patterns  of 
rare  arabesque,  into  the  harder  steel,  that  the  two  substances 
were  perfectly  incorporated.  It  must  not  be  supposed,  how 
ever,  that  the  whole  of  this  superb  suit  was  exposed  to  the 
sunshine,  which,  reflected  from  its  surface,  would  have  been 
intolerable  to  the  wearer,  or  to  the  rain,  which  would,  ere  long, 
have  dimmed  its  polish ;  nothing,  in  fact,  was  visible  of  the 
armor,  except  the  gorget  defending  the  neck,  the  brassards, 
vantbraces,  and  gauntlets  on  the  arms,  and  the  splents  covering 
the  legs  from  the  knee  downward ;  for  all  the  chest  and  thighs 
of  the  rider  were  clad,  above  the  mail,  in  a  surcoat,  or  loose 
frock,  of  fine  white  Flanders  cloth,  fringed  with  deep  bullion, 
and  having  a  chained  dragon — the  well-known  cognizance  of 
the  counts  of  Tankarville  —  emblazoned  on  the  breast,  on  thick 
embroideries  of  gold.  The  splendid  warrior,  however,  carried 
no  offensive  weapon,  with  the  exception  of  a  richly-mounted 
dagger  at  his  girdle  ;  nor  was  he  horsed  on  his  ponderous 
charger,  but  on  a  slight  and  delicate  Arabian,  of  a  deep  iron 
gray,  whose  springy  limbs  and  slender  pasterns  would  have 


THE  KNIGHT'S  ATTENDANTS.  23 

seemed  utterly  inadequate  to  bear  the  weight  of  so  large  a  man 
sheathed  in  so  ponderous  a  harness,  had  not  its  wild,  large  eye, 
its  red,  expanded  nostril,  and  its  proud,  tremulous  snort,  as  it 
chafed  against  the  curb,  proclaimed  it  full  of  the  indomitable 
spirit  of  its  desert  sires.  His  attendants  were  three  in  number. 
An  old  dark  veteran,  with  hair  as  white  as  snow,  but  with  a 
ruddy,  sun-burnt  face,  radiant  with  health  and  animation — 
who,  mounted  on  a  strong,  black  charger,  bore,  in  addition  to  his 
own  accoutrements,  his  master's  lance  and  helmet.  The  other 
two  were  ordinary  men-at-arms  of  the  period ;  armed  indeed 
with  unusual  exactness,  and  mounted  on  beasts  that  might  have 
borne  a  king  to  battle.  Of  these,  one  carried  the  two-handed 
broadsword  of  the  knight,  with  its  embroidered  baldric,  and 
the  small  heater-shaped  shield,  embossed  with  the  same  bear 
ing  as  his  surcoat ;  the  other  led  his  destrier,  a  tall,  full-blooded 
Andalusian  red-roan,  with  snow-white  mane  and  tail,  barded 
for  battle.  Ponderous,  indeed,  was  the  burthen,  of  both  man 
and  horse,  in  those  days  ;  for  the  knight's  charger  bore,  in  ad 
dition  to  its  huge  plated  demipique,  a  chamfort  covering  the 
forehead,  connected  to  a  series  of  stout  plates  running  down 
the  vertebrae  of  the  neck,  and  fastened  to  the  saddle-bow  ;  a 
poitrel  of  fluted  steel  protecting  the  whole  chest  and  counter, 
and  the  bard  proper,  guarding  the  loins  and  croupe,  from  the 
cantle  of  the  saddle  to  the  tail.  All  his  armature  was  wrought 
point  device,  to  match  the  harness  of  the  rider,  and,  like  that, 
was  covered  by  a  housing,  as  it  was  termed,  of  white  cloth 
rickly  laced,  and  decorated  in  several  places  with  the  same 
figure  of  the  chained  dragon.  From  the  pommel  of  the  saddle 
were  slung,  one  on  either  hand,  a  battle-axe  of  Damascene 
steel,  and  a  heavy  mace-at-arms.  The  reins  of  the  bridle 
were  not  composed  of  leather,  but  of  two  plates  of  metal,  a 
hand's  breadth  wide  in  the  centre,  but  tapering  toward  the  bit 
to  which  they  were  attached  by  solid  rings,  and  toward  the 


24  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

hand-piece,  where  they  were  connected  by  a  stout  thong  of 
bull's  hide. 

Such  were  the  persons,  and  such  their  attire,  who  lighted 
down,  a  short  space  before  sunset,  at  the  door  of  the  village 
tavern,  seemingly  not  a  little  pleased  to  have  attained  its  shel 
ter  before  the  storm  should  burst,  which  was  already  howling 
through  the  forest. 

"  Matthieu,"  exclaimed  the  knight,  as  he  sprang  down  from 
his  palfrey,  with  a  clang  and  clatter  that  might  have  been  heard 
half  a  mile  off,  "  Matthieu,  good  friend,  let  the  men  take  the 
bridles  off,  and  feed  the  chargers  ;  but  bid  them  on  no  terms 
unbard  them,  nor  lay  their  armor  off  themselves.  These  woods 
of  Soignies  and  Ardenne  are  rarely  free  of  brigands  ;  and 
though  we  have  heard  tell  that  those  infernal  miscreants,  Tal- 
ebard  Talebardin,  and  the  Rouge  Batard,  have  fallen  back  into 
Normandy,  before  King  Philip's  host,  I  hold  it  likelier  far  that 
they  would  tarry  here  in  force,  to  waylay  the  small  parties,  such 
as  mine  and  five  hundred  others,  which  are  all  straggling  up 
to  the  rendezvous  at  Mirepoix.  Look  to  it,  old  companion  ; 
and  then  come  in  and  see  what  cheer  we  may  find  for  the  night ; 
sorry  enough,  I  trow  ;  but  '  better,'  as  the  adage  goes,  '  a  beg 
gar's  cassock,  that  no  covering  in  a  storm.' " 

And  with  these  words  he  entered  the  single  room,  which 
occupied  the  whole  ground  floor  of  the  cabin,  serving  for 
kitchen,  hall,  and  parlor ;  wherein  he  found  an  old  and  with 
ered  crone,  as  deaf,  apparently,  as  a  stone-wall ;  for  she  took 
no  notice  whatever  of  his  entrance,  her  back  being  turned  as 
he  stooped  under  the  low  doorway,  though  he  made  noise 
enough,  with  his  jingling  spurs  and  clashing  harness,  to  have 
aroused  the  seven  sleepers 

"  What  ho  !  good  dame,"  he  cried,  "  canst  give  us  somewhat 
to  eat,  and  a  drink  of  good  strong  wine  to  warm  us  this  cold 
night  ?"  And  as  he  spoke,  he  flung  himself  into  a  huge,  old- 


THE    VILLAGE-TAVERN.  25 

fashioned  settee,  by  the  hearth,  the  woman  gazing  at  him  all 
the  time  with  an  air  of  stupid  bewilderment,  which  excited  his 
mirth  to  such  a  degree  that  he  laughed,  literally,  till  the  tears 
ran  down  his  cheeks  ;  increasing  her  confusion  and  dismay  by 
every  succeeding  peal  of  merriment.  At  length,  after  sundry 
ineffectual  efforts,  interrupted  by  fresh  shouts  of  laughter,  he 
made  her  comprehend  his  meaning  ;  and,  that  once  done,  she 
speedily  produced  some  cold  provisions,  with  a  flask  or  two  of 
wine,  very  superior  in  quality  to  what  could  have  been  expected, 
from  the  appearance  of  the  hut.  The  joints,  however,  of  roast 
boar's  flesh,  and  the  venison  pastry,  which  composed  the  prin 
cipal  parts  of  the  entertainment,  had  all  suffered  considerable 
dilapidation  ;  and  it  was  in  apologizing  for  this,  that  the  old 
woman  let  fall  some  expressions  which  aroused  in  an  instant 
the  jealousy  of  the  wary  soldier. 

"  It  was  a  party,"  she  said,  "  from  Ghent,  or  Bruges,  or 
Antwerp  it  might  be,  that  had  passed  by  at  noon  with  a  great 
train  of  merchandise  ;  and  such  an  angel  of  a  lady,  so  young,  and 
soft,  and  tender,  and  kind-spoken !  Poor  thing,"  she  added, 
"poor  thing  !  'twas  pity  they  had  rid  forth  into  the  forest ;  but  the 
Lord's  will  be  done  ;  and  if  it  be  his  pleasure,  sure  he  can  guard 
them  from  the  peril — " 

"  Peril !  what  peril,  dame  ?"  shouted  the  count,  so  loudly 
that  she  failed  not  to  hear  and  comprehend  him  ;  "  what  peril 
they  should  run  I  know  not,  unless  it  be  a  late  ride  into  Braine- 
la-Lead ;  and  it  may  be  a  ducking,  which,  I  trow,  will  scarcely 
drown  this  beautiful  bourgeoise.  Ha  !  say  what  peril  ?" 

"  Well,  well !  she  knew  not,"  she  made  answer  ;  "  the  forest 
never  was  over-safe  ;  besides  the  gray  monk  of  Soignies  was 
here  as  they  came  up,  and  mingled  with  their  train,  and  ques 
tioned  closely  of  their  route.  God  send  it  be  all  well :  I  be  a 
poor,  old,  helpless  thing,  and  know  naught  of  their  doings." 

"  By  our  lady  of  Bonsecours  !"  muttered  the  knight  between, 

2 


26  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

his  teeth,  "but  it  seems  to  me  thou  dost  know  over-much  for 

honesty  ;"  and  then—"  Whose  doings,  mother  ?"  he  continued  ; 

«  and  who  is  this  gray  monk  of  Soignies  ?  or  what  hath  he  to 

make  with  their  well-doing  ?" 

«  Nay,  nay  !  I  know  not ;  all  the  world,  I  thought,  had  heard 

tell  of  the  gray  brother- all  the  world  twenty  leagues  round." 
«  But  happening  not  to  dwell  within  twenty  leagues  round, 
I  have  not  heard  tell  of  the   gray  brother ;  so  now,  I  pntl  ee, 
dame,  enlighten  me." 

But  by  no  exhortation,  or  even  threats,  could  he  extort 
other  word  from  her  ;  for  she  had  apparently  relapsed 
impenetrable  deafness,  and  sat  crooning  some  old  ballad  over 
the  hearth,  a  picture  of  the  most  utter  imbecility, 
pondered  for  a  few  minutes  deeply  ;  and  once  he  half  rose  from 
his  seat,  as  if  to  order  out  his  horses  ;  but  when  he  reflecte 
on  the  distance  they  had  journeyed  without  any  bait,  he  sank 
down  again  in  the  settee,  drained  a  deep  draught  of  wine,  and 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  embers  of  the  wood-fire,  continued 
in  a  fit  of  musing,  until  he  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
the  old  ecuyer  Matthieu,  and  the  two  men-at-arms,  from  the 

stable. 

Bidding  his  followers  take  care  of  themselves,  and  get 
their  food  quickly,  for  he   should  start  again  so  soon  as  the 
steeds  had  eaten  up  their  provender,  he  was  again  relapsing 
into  thought,  when  his  squire  addressed  him  suddenly  - 
"  Where  be  the  servants  of  the  inn,  beau  sire  ?" 
«  There  be  none,  Matthieu,"  answered  the  knight  very  quick 
ly  •  «  not  a  soul,  save  this  cursed  old  witch,  who,  whether  she 
be'deaf  or  no,  simple  or  over-quick,  by  mine  honor  I  am  a 

loss  to  tell !" 

«  Nor  be  there  any  hostlers  in  the  stable-yard  ;  though  there 
be  forty  stalls  of  stabling,  and  corn  and  hay  sufficient  for  a 
squadron,  and  plenty  of  dry  litter,  and  signs  enow  of  many 


THE    REBUKE.  27 

horses !  Nor  is  there,  for  so  much  as  I  can  learn,  one  man  in 
the  whole  village  —  if  village  one  may  call  this  heap  of  filthy 
hovels.  Not  a  soul  have  I  seen,  but  one  foxy-headed  boy,  who 
ran  away  and  hid  himself,  so  that  we  could  not  find  him." 

"  I  fancy,  my  good  Matthieu,"  replied  the  count  quite  coolly, 
"  I  fancy  we  have  fallen  into  a  precious  den  of  routiers  and 
ecorcheurs.  The  hag  let  out,  I  know  not  what  of  travellers 
who  had  passed  by  at  noon,  and  were  all  like  to  come  to  evil ; 
but  I  could  make  naught  out  of  her." 

"  So,  please  you,  beau  sire,"  interrupted  one  of  the  men-at- 
arms,  who  had  been  listening  attentively,  their  own  suspicions 
having  been  much  awakened  ;  "  so,  please  you,  beau  sire,  but 
that  I  have  heard  say  you  do  not  lika  such  doings,  I  could 
find  a  way  to  make  her  hear,  though  she  were  as  deaf  as  the 
grave,  and  answer,  too,  though  she  were  as  dumb  as  a  hedge- 
hog." 

"  How  so,  Clement  Mareuil  ?"  asked  his  master,  sternly. 
"  How  could  you  make  this  wretched  old  hag  hear,  if  the 
drums  of  ears  be  palsied  ?" 

"  Easily,  beau  sire,  easily !  let  me  but  tie  your  bunch  of 
matches  between  her  fingers,  and  just  light  the  ends,  I  warrant 
me  she  will  tell  all  her  secrets  that  you  shall  hear  them  a 
league  distant.  When  I  was  carrying  a  free  lance  in  Schoen- 
velt's  light  battalion — " 

"  Hark  thee,  Clements,"  interrupted  the  knight ;  "  I  have 
heard  say  that  Schoenvelt's  light  battalion  was  little  better  than 
a  band  of  tondeurs.  Himself,  I  know,  though  a  fierce  cham 
pion,  and  a  manly,  to  have  been  at  the  best  a  barbarous  ma 
rauder.  Now,  mark  me  !  Let  me  hear  such  words  as  these 
once  more  !  much  more  let  me  hear  of  your  doing  deviltries, 
such  as  you  phrase  so  glibely !  and,  were  you  the  best  spear 
in  Flanders,  I  would  strip  you  of  my  bearings,  and  scourge 
you  with  my  stirrup  leathers,  till  your  back  should  be  more 


28  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

tender  than  your  mercy!     For  shame!   you  a  soldier,   and 
talk  of  torturing  a  woman !" 

«  Nay,  nay,  beau  sire,"  answered  the  man,  much  abashed; 
«  pardon  me,  for  I  meant  no  evil.  Every  one  knows  that  all 
the  villains  hereabout  are  in  league  with  the  gray  monk  of 
Soignies  and  the  Red  Bastard.  I  warrant  me  this  old  hag 
knows  all  their  haunts  as  well  as  I  know." 

«  Methinks  you  know  too  much,  Clement,"  interposed  Mat- 
thieu,  «  of  these  routiers  thyself.  I  warrant  me,  thou  countest 
fellowship  with  this  Red  Bastard !" 

«  No,  no,  sir !  not  so  bad  as  that,"  replied  the  soldier,  look 
ing  very  much  confused ;  «« not  I,  indeed-though,  to  say 
truly,"  he  continued,  when  I  served  Shoenvelt,  there  was  a 
proper  man-at-arms  among  his  free  companions,  as  hideous  as 
the  foul  fiend  to  look  upon,  and  as  cruel,  too,  to  say  the  lea* 
of  it !  and  I  have  heard  say  he  is  the  man  who  now  bears  that 
soubriquet.  He  was  base-born,  I  know  ;  and  his  hair  was  as 
red  as  a  fox's  brush,  and  twice  as  coarse,  He  was  a  stout 
lance,  and  a  right  bold  rider;  but  God  forbid  that  I  should 
count  fellowship  with  such  an  utter  devil !" 

"And  who  is  the  gray  monk  of  Soignies,  sirrah?  since 
thou  knowest  all  about  it,"  the  knight  demanded;  "this  old 
jade  spoke  of  him  but  now." 

«  Ah !  ah  !  I  thought  so,  beau  sire.  I  said  as  much  a  while 
since.  Why,  the  gray  monk  is  one  whom,  but  that  he  walks 
the  earth  in  human  shape,  and  that  I  saw  him  once  well  nigh 
killed  in  a  melee,  I  would  swear  was  the  arch  enemy  of  man ! 
Why  beau  sire,  it  was  he  who  forced  the  knight  of  1 
castle,  and  crucified  him  over  the  altar  of  his  own  chapel, 
while  his  men  violated  his  wife  and  his  two  sisters  before 

very  eyes !" 

«  To  horse  !"  exclaimed  the  knight,  springing  to 
••  to  horse,  then,  on  the  instant !     Away,  Clement  and  Raoul ; 


VILLANY    FRUSTRATED.  29 

screw  on  my  casque,  Matthieu,  and  hang  my  shield  about  my 
neck,  and  belt  me  with  my  espaldron,  else  shall  more  villanies 
be  done  this  night.  To  horse,  my  men,  right  hastily !" 

With  the  first  words  of  their  master  the  men-at-arms  hurried 
to  the  stable  to  fetch  out  their  chargers,  but  ere  five  minutes 
had  elapsed  they  both  returned,  dragging  in  between  them  a 
stolid-looking,  red-haired  boy,  whom  they  swore  they  had 
caught  on  the  point  of  knocking  a  large  spike-nail  —  which 
they  produced,  together  with  a  hammer,  as  evidence  of  the 
fact  —  into  the  hoof  of  the  knight's  roan  charger.  The  old  wo 
man's  eye  lightened,  as  the  boy  was  dragged  in,  for  a  moment; 
but  she  instantly  resumed  her  appearance  of  stupidity,  and  sat, 
as  before,  rocking  herself  to  and  fro,  and  droning  over  an  old 
song,  careless,  apparently,  and  ignorant  of  all  that  passed  be 
fore  her. 

"  How  now,  young  villain !  For  what  wouldst  thou  have 
lamed  my  war-horse  ?"  cried  the  count,  now  excited  into  a 
paroxysm  of  fury.  "  Speak  out !  speak  out !  or,  by  the  God 
that  made  me,  base  peasant,  I  will  flog  thee  till  all  thy  bones 
are  bare,  and  hang  thee  afterward,  head  downward,  over  those 
slow  wood-ashes.  Speak,  or  an — thou  diest  not — my  name 
is  not  Hugues  de  Coucy !" 

The  boy  glared  up  into  his  face  with  an  air  of  stubborn  reso 
lution,  but  spoke  not,  nor  made  any  sign. 

"  Off  with  thy  sword-belt,  Clement.  Mareuil,  bind  him  to 
yon  door-post,  and  lash  him  till  he  find  his  tongue."  His 
orders  were  obeyed  upon  the  instant.  The  first  blow  of  the 
heavy  thong  fell  on  the  naked  shoulders  of  the  peasant,  and 
instantly  a  broad,  long,  livid  wheal  rose  on  the  withering  flesh! 
a  second,  and  the  blood  spirted  to  the  ceiling,  as  if  from  a 
sword-cut !  a  third  time  Clement's  arm  was  raised,  and  the 
stubborn  sufferer  cowered  beneath  the  lash ;  when  the  old  hag 
sprung  up — "A  thousand  curses  on  thee,  fool !  Why  dost 


30  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

not  tell  them  that  the  gray  brother  gave  thee  ten  Flemish 
florins  to  lame  the  horse  of  every  traveller  should  come  up  ere 
sunset,  that  none  might  interrupt  their  doings  in  the  forest? 
And  now  thou  knowest  it  all,  sir  knight,  and  much  good  may 
it  do  thee  !  for  long  ere  you  reach  the  great  chestnut  they  will 
have  slain  the  men-at-arms,  and  rifled  the  rich  goods,  and 
worked  their  will  on  the  wenches !  Ha  !  ha !  ha !  now  go 
thy  way,  sir  knight,  and  make  the  best  on't !" 

"  Not  I,  by  Heavens,  till  I  have  found  a  guide." 

"  There  is  no  better  in  the  country,  beau  sire,"  interrupted 
Matthieu,  "  than  Clement.  He  knows  this  province  for  thirty 
leagues  around,  as  well  as  ere  a  fox  that  it  earths  in  the  forest. 
Is  it  not  so,  Mareuil  ?" 

"  Ay,  is  it,"  answered  the  vassal,  "  seeing  I  was  born  in  it 
myself.  Yes,  yes,  beau  sire,  I  can  lead  you  to  the  great 
chestnut,  and  to  the  headless  cross  in  the  beech  woods,  and  to 
the  broken  bridge,  and  to  every  other  haunt  of  these  ma 
rauders.'' 

"  How  didst  thou  gain  this  knowledge,  Clement  ?  Hast 
thou,  indeed,  consorted  with  these  canaille  ?  Then  thou  art  no 
more  man  of  Hugues  de  Coucy !  Off  with  my  cognizances, 
sirrah !  Get  thy  ways  hence,  and  deem  it  mercy  I  let  thee 
go  alive !" 

"No,  no  !  beau  sire  !  These  same  ecorcheurs,  tondeurs,  and 
pilleurs,  as  they  now  call  them,  were  once  good  honest  for 
esters,  ere  the  wars  made  them  first  fierce  soldiers,  and  then 
disbanded  depredators,  and  now  barbarous  banditti.  Many  a 
deer  I've  struck  with  them  by  moonlight ;  and  all  their  haunts 
and  trysting  trees  I  know  of  old,  though  twenty  years  have 
passed  since  I  saw  Ardenne." 

"  Away,  then  !  en  avant !  Cry  Tankarville  to  horse,  and  to 
the  rescue  !"  And  in  five  minutes  space  they  had  buckled  on 
their  weapons,  and  mounted  their  war-horses,  and  rode  off  at 


MIDNIGHT    IN    THE    FOREST.  31 

a  long,  hard  trot  along  the  very  road,  by  which  the  Flemish 
merchants  had  passed,  four  hours  before,  into  the  forest. 

"  The  foul  fiend  follow  ye,  and  hunt  ye  to  perdition !"  ex 
claimed  the  woman,  as  they  rode  off  clanging  from  the  door, 
"  and  if  ye  reach  the  headless  cross  at  daybreak,  ye  shall  find 
horse  enough  to  harry  ye  !" 

Dark  waxed  the  night  and  darker,  as  they  pursued  their 
way  with  unabated  zeal ;  and  the  wind  rose,  and  roared  among 
the  tall  trees  of  the  forest,  and  whirled  whole  flights  of  leaves 
and  many  a  broken  branch  away  before  its  furious  sweep,  and 
the  clouds  blotted  the  faint  stars  ;  and,  save  that  now  and  then 
a  flash  of  lurid  lightning  flickered  across  the  moonless  sky,  it 
had  been  palpable  and  solid  gloom. 

Onward  they  rode,  still  onward!,  and  still  the  night  waxed 
wilder.  No  rain  fell  from  the  scudding  clouds,  but  the  fierce 
wind  raved  awfully,  and  the  thunder  muttered  in  one  continual 
dull  reverberation  from  every  quarter  of  the  firmament,  and  the 
whole  sky  was  one  incessant  blaze  of  blue  and  sulphurous  fire. 
The  deep  road  through  the  forest  was  illuminated  bright  as  at 
noonday ;  and  so  full  was  the  atmosphere  of  the  electric  fluid, 
that  a  faint  lambent  flame  played  constantly  about  the  armor 
of  the  men,  and  flickered  on  the  points  of  their  weapons  —  an 
awful  and  appalling  sight !  yet,  as  it  seemed,  innocuous ! 

Still  onward  !  They  rode  onward  !  Night  had  no  terror — 
not  even  such  a  night  as  this  —  for  one  like  Hugues  de  Coucy, 
when  his  high  valor  was  spurred  to  its  mettle  by  a  high  pur 
pose.  Onward  !  and  now  they  passed  the  great  chestnut- 
tree,  a  landmark  known  for  leagues,  but  all  around  was  silent 
and  deserted.  They  wheeled  around  an  angle  of  the  road, 
the  lightnings  blazed  across  the  causeway,  and  showed  a  scene 
that  might  have  struck  a  chill  to  the  most  fiery  heart.  Five 
horses  were  there  plunging  to  and  fro,  and  writhing  in  minute 
agony,  hamstrung  by  the  banditti,  who  had  not  spared  the 


32  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCT. 

time,  or  who  had  lacked  the  will,  to  save  them  hours  of  tor 
ture.  Beneath  the  feet  of  these,  mangled  and  maimed  by  their 
incessant  plungings,  but,  happily,  insensible  to  any  pain  or 
outrage,  lay  in  their  curdled  gore  eight  human  bodies  !  Four 
stout-armed  serving-men,  three  of  them  shot  into  their  faces 
with  barbed  arrows,  one  of  them  slain  outright  by  a  spear- 
thrust,  a  youthful  gentleman,  an  aged  steward,  or  seneschal, 
and  two  unarmed  grooms,  hacked  with  unnumbered  wounds  — 
all  foully,  barbarously  slaughtered ! 

The  knight  pulled  up  his  charger  on  the  spot ;  and,  at  the 
moment,  a  loud  cry  for  aid  fell  on  his  sharpened  ear. 

"  Who  calls  ?"  he  cried,  "  who  calls  for  succor  ?  In  God's 
name  it  is  here  !" 

"  I,  Arnold  Marillon,  of  Bruges,"  he  replied,  in  a  faint  voice 
from  the  forest.  "  I  am  bound  here  to  the  oak-tree  !" 

"  Good  Lord !  mine  ancient  friend,  Marillon !  Hold  my 
horse,  Clement  Mareuil  —  hold  my  horse  !  Follow,  Matthieu! 
Be  of  good  cheer,  fair  master  Marillon.  It  is  thine  old  friend 
Hugues  de  Coucy,  whose  ransom  thou  didst  pay,  in  past  years, 
to  Ferrand,  earl  of  Flanders  !  —  all  shall  yet  be  well  with  thee 
—  ay,  by  St.  Paul,  and  well  avenged!" 

In  another  moment  the  old  man  was  released  from  his 
bonds,  and  refreshed  by  a  draught  of  wine  from  a  huge  bottiau, 
or  leather  bottle,  which  hung  at  the  squire's  pommel,  was 
speedily  able  to  recount  his  grievances. 

A  few  words  told  the  fatal  story.  At  early  evening  they 
had  been  ambushed  by  a  band  of  four  robbers  only ;  three  of 
their  armed  retainers  had  been  shot  down  in  the  first  onset, 

IP 

the  other  speared  by  the  Red  Bastard,  and  then,"  he  added, 
half  suffocated  as  he  spoke  by  fierce  and  passionate  grief, 
"  and  then  they  slaughtered,  in  cold  blood,  my  sister's  son — 
my  dear,  my  fair-haired  William !  they  slaughtered  my  old 
faithful  steward !  they  slaughtered  my  poor  valets !  and  they 


TO  THE  RESCUE!  33 

have  dragged  away  my  girl,  my  hope,  my  more  than  life!  — 
Marguerite  de  Beaufroy  —  to  infamy,  and  agony,  and  death!" 

"  Clement,  canst  thou  guide  us  farther  ?" 

"  To  the  Red  Bastard's  presence  !" 

"  Come,  then,  kind  Marillon,  take  one  more  draught  of  wine, 
mount  on  Grey  Termagant,  and  ride  with  us  right  hopefully. 
What  has  been  done  can  be,  ay,  and  shall  be  avenged !  but 
can  not  be  amended.  What  is  undone  as  yet,  as  yet  may  be 
prevented.  God  and  the  good  saints  aid  us  !  and  thou  mayst 
yet  embrace  thy  niece  ere  daybreak." 

Not  a  word  was  more  spoken,  nor  a  moment  of  time  wasted. 
The  old  merchant  was  mounted  without  delay ;  and,  although 
weak  and  worn  by  suffering  and  sorrow,  he  rode  on  stoutly  by 
the  side  of  his  deliverer. 

All  night  they  rode  ;  but,  just  as  day  was  breaking,  they 
reached  the  summit  of  a  little  hill  overlooking  a  marshy  valley, 
intersected  by  a  cross-road,  with  a  thick  beech-wood  occupy 
ing  all  the  bottom  land,  and  a  broken  cross  of  stone  in  the 
centre  of  the  causeway.  Before  they  reached  the  summit  of 
the  hill,  the  voice  of  Clement  warned  the  knight  that  now  or 
never  they  should  meet  the  formidable  Routier ;  and,  in  effect, 
as  they  crossed  the  brow,  they  came  in  view  of  the  party  — 
four  horsemen,  fully  though  irregularly  armed,  and  three  female 
figures  bent  to  their  saddles  with  fatigue,  and  prevented  from 
falling  only  by  the  bonds  that  fettered  them.  The  clatter  of 
the  knight's  approach  had  warned  them  of  their  coming  dan 
ger  ;  and  sending  the  women  forward  to  the  cross,  the  brigands 
drew  themselves  up  across  the  road,  in  readiness  to  dispute 
the  passage. 

"  Tankarville  to  the  rescue  !  St.  Paul !  St.  Paul  for  Tankar- 
ville  ;"  and  down  the  gentle  slope  thundered  the  knight  and 
his  attendants  ;  while  with  equal  spirit  the  robbers  spurred  their 
steeds  to  meet  them. 

2* 


34  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

"  Ha !  ha !  Saynct  Diable  !"  but  his  awful  war-cry  was  cut 
short,  for  the  Red  Bastard,  conspicuous  by  his  crimson  pano 
ply  and  dauntless  bearing,  had  singled  out  De  Coucy,  and 
charged  him  with  lance  in  rest  with  singular  prowess  ;  but 
though  he  charged  his  lance  with  perfect  skill,  striking  the 
very  centre  of  the  knight's  vizor,  and  shivering  the  stout  ash- 
pole  to  atoms  up  to  the  very  grasp,  De  Coucy  no  more  wavered 
in  his  saddle,  than  he  had  done  for  the  buffet  of  a  lady's  fan ! 
While  his  lanced-head  pierced  sheer  through  shield  and  plas 
tron,  corselet  and  shirt  of  mail,  and  spitting  the  marauder  through 
and  through  came  out  at  his  back-piece,  the  shaft  snapping 
short  some  two  feet  from  the  champion's  gauntlet !  though  slain 
outright,  the  routier  sat  his  horse  stiffly ;  and,  as  the  knight's 
charger  still  swept  on,  he  was  in  the  act  of  passing  Hugues, 
when  the  latter,  not  perceiving  that  he  was  slain,  stood  up  in 
his  stirrups  and  smote  him  such  a  blow  on  the  head-piece  with 
the  truncheon  of  his  broken  lance,  that  all  the  fastenings  of  the 
vizor  burst,  the  avantaille  flew  open,  and  the  hideous  face  of 
the  Red  Routier  was  displayed,  livid  with  the  hues -of  death,  and 
writhing  with  the  anguish  of  the  parting  struggle  !  De  Coucy's 
followers  had  fared  as  well  as  he,  for  two  of  the  marauders, 
the  antagonists  of  Clement  Mareuil  and  old  Matthieu,  were 
killed  in  the  first  shock  ;  but  the  priest  shivered  his  spear  fairly 
with  Raoul,  and  passing  by  him  unharmed,  darted  into  the 
beechwood,  and  escaped. 

For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  though  the  field  were  won,  and 
the  women  rescued  ;  it  was,  however,  but  for  a  moment !  for 
scarcely  was  that  onset  over,  before  the  thundering  sound  of  a 
large  body  of  armed  horse  came  down  the  two  cross-roads, 
blended  with  the  clangor  of  dissonant  horns,  and  wild  yells, 
and  savage  outcries. 

"Ha!  ha!  Saynct  Diable!"  Talebard  Talebardin  to  the 
rescue  !"  and,  wheeling  down  like  lightning  through  both  ave- 


TALEBARD    TALEBARDIN.  35 

nties,  thirty  or  forty  savage-looking,  irregular  horse  drove,  with 
their  spears  in  rest,  against  the  little  party  of  De  Coucy. 

The  champion's  lance  was  broken  ;  yet  undaunted,  he  en 
countered  the  front  rank ;  three  lances  shivered  against  his 
coat  of  proof,  but  shook  him  not  a  hair's  breadth  in  his  stirrups. 
Three  sweeping  blows  of  his  two-handed  sword !  and  three 
steeds  ran  masterless,  while  their  riders  rolled  under  the  hoofs 
in  the  death  struggle.  But  one  man,  though  a  hero,  can  not 
succeed  against  a  host.  As  he  raised  his  sword  for  a  fourth 
stroke,  a  thundering  blow  of  a  mace  or  battle-axe  was  dealt  him 
from  behind,  and  at  the  same  instant  a  lance  point  was  driven 
through  the  eye  into  his  charger's  brain.  Down  he  went, 
horse  and  man,  and  when  he  recovered  his  senses  from  the 
shock,  a  man  in  plain,  bright  armor  was  kneeling  on  his  breast ; 
and  the  point  of  a  dagger,  thrust  between  the  bars  of  his  avan- 
taille,  was  razing  the  skin  of  his  face. 

"  Yield  thee,  sir  knight,  or  die  !  Yield  !  rescue  or  no  rescue  !" 

"  To  whom  must  I  yield  me !  though  it  avail  me  naught  to 
ask  it  ?"  inquired  the  haughty  baron,  retaining  all  his  pride  and 
all  his  fiery  valor. 

"  To  me  — Talebard  Talebardin  !" 

"  I !  —  I !  —  I,  Hugues  de  Coucy,  yield  me  to  such  a  slave  as 
thou  art — to  a  murtherer  of  old  men  in  cold  blood  —  a  violator 
of  ladies  —  a  torturer  of  babes  and  suckling!  sacrilegious  dog! 
base  knave!  thief!  traitor!  liar!  vassal!  do  thy  worst,  I  defy 
thee  !" 

"  Ha !  my  most  noble  baron,  is  it  thou  ?"  answered  the  ruf 
fian  perfectly  unmoved.  "  I  might  have  guessed  as  much,  by 
thy  bold  bearing  —  Nay!  nay!  we  do  not  stick  such  lambs  as 
thou  art,  for  their  flesh's  sake,  we  save  them  for  their  .ransoms  ! 
Here,  Croquart,  Picard,  Jean  Le  Noir,  bind  this  sweet  baron, 
hand  and  foot ;  and  strip  him  of  his  gay  feathers  straightway ; 
but  harm  him  not  upon  your  lives.  By  all  the  fiends  in  hell, 


36  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

his  ransom  will  bring  fifty  thousand  crowns  of  the  sun  right 
readily  !     So  that  is  briefly  settled  !" 

And  with  the  words,  he  rose  from  the  chest  of  the  knight ; 
and  resigning  him  to  the  hands  of  his  subordinate  ruffians, 
walked  off  to  examine  the  field  of  battle,  and  the  booty  which 
had  fallen  into  his  hands.  The  latter  comprised  the  miserable 
Marguerite  half  rescued  only  to  be  again  enthralled  with  her 
two  serving-women  ;  the  old  merchant,  Arnold  Morillon,  and 
the  stout  baron  Hugues  de  Coucy.  Six  of  the  routiers  had 
been  slain,  beside  the  Rouge  Batard ;  four  of  the  number  by 
the  hand  of  Hugues !  The  men-at-arms,  Raoul  and  Clement 
had  both  died  fighting  to  the  last ;  but  dead  or  living,  Matthieu 
de  Montmesnil,  the  old  esquire,  was  to  be  found  nowhere. 
And  it  is  doubtful,  whether,  as  the  knight  was  borne  away  into 
captivity,  he  did  not  regret  more  deeply  than  either  his  own 
defeat  or  the  seizure  of  the  women,  the  disgrace  of  the  veteran 
warrior  who  had  fought  by  the  side  of  his  father ;  and  who  ac 
cording  to  the  rules  of  chivalry,  should  have  died  under  shield 
dauntless,  rather  than  leave  his  lord,  captive  or  dead,  upon  the 
field  of  honor. 


AN    AUTUMN    MORNING.  37 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    ESQUIRE. 

IT  was  about  eleven  o'clock  of  the  morning,  on  a  fine  clear 
autumnal  day,  which  had  succeeded  to  a  night  of  storm  and 
fury,  that  a  single  wayfarer  might  have  been  seen  seated  be 
side  the  brink  of  a  small  consecrated  well  on  the  roadside  be 
tween  Braine  la  Leud  and  Brussels.  The  road,  at  that  period, 
lay  stretching  far  through  an  unbroken  forest,  which  indeed 
covered  the  whole  face  of  the  country  for  many  a  league  in 
circuit,  with  but  a  few  small  tracts  of  cultivated  land,  smiling 
like  sheltered  oases  amid  the  wide  waste  of  green  leaves  and 
waving  fern,  that  clothed  both  vale  and  upland.  It  would 
have  been  impossible  for  a  poet's  fancy  to  conceive,  or  painter's 
hand  to  delineate  a  spot  more  singularly  picturesque,  more 
lonely  or  romantic,  than  that  which  had  been  chosen  for  a 
resting-place  by  the  worn  traveller,  a  small  sequestered  nook 
between  three  short  but  abrupt  hills,  which  closed  it  in  on 
every  side  save  one,  where  down  a  narrow  gorge,  the  head  of 
a  broad  valley,  the  waters  of  the  little  fountain  welled  with  a 
gentle  murmur,  soon  to  be  lost  in  the  turbulent  channel  of  some 
larger  but  not  purer  streamlet.  The  spring-head  of  this  crys 
tal  streamlet  was  sheltered  from  the  sun  and  air  by  a  small 
vault  of  freestone,  wrought  in  rich  Gothic  fret-work,  and  sur 
mounted  by  a  cross  of  rare  workmanship  ;  an  iron  cup  was 
attached  to  the  margin  of  the  basin  by  a  chain,  and  a  stone 
bench,  over-canopied  by  a  huge  assh-tree,  afforded  a  pleas 
ant  resting-place  to  voyager  or  pilgrim.  Behind  the  well 
there  rose  a  tall,  rough  bank  of  sand,  within  which  was  the 


38  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

birthplace  of  those  limpid  waters,  all  overgrown  with  wild- 
flowers,  and  running  with  long  wreaths  of  eglantine  and  honey 
suckle,  and  all  around  it  the  tall  Titans  of  the  forest  reared 
their  great  heads  exulting  in  the  sunshine,  which  bathed  their 
airy  tops  in  floods  of  yellow  lustre,  while  all  their  lower  limbs 
and  moss-grown  boles,  and  the  soft,  green  sward  at  their  feet, 
were  steeped  in  cool,  blue  shadows.  The  sandy  road,  which 
wound  through  this  deep  solitude,  seemed  little  travelled  — 
for  no  wheel-tracks  and  but  few  hoof-prints  could  be  traced 
along  its  yielding  surface  —  not  a  sound  was  to  be  heard  ex 
cept  the  gentle  breath  of  the  morning  air  whispering  constantly 
among  the  ash-leaves,  and  low  gurgle  of  the  rivulet,  and  now 
and  then  the  sudden  song  of  the  thrush  or  blackbird  bursting 
out  from  the  thickets  in  a  gush  of  liquid  ecstasy,  and  hushed 
almost  immediately  into  repose  and  silence.  So  seldom,  too, 
it  would  appear,  were  human  beings  seen  in  that  sylvan  dis 
trict,  that  an  unwonted  tameness  was  perceptible  among  the 
animal  creation.  Several  small  birds  hopped  down  into  the 
road,  and  even  ventured  up  to  drink  or  lave  their  disordered 
plumage  in  the  little  channel  which  wound  across  the  path, 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  man's  feet  who  sat  there  silently,  all 
overdone  with  travel.  Nay,  more,  a  wild  deer  came  out  from 
the  copse  on  the  farther  side,  and  gazed  about  it  for  a  moment, 
and  eyed  the  strange  forms  with  some  apparent  apprehension ; 
but  seeing  that  he  moved  not,  drank  its  fill  of  the  stream,  and 
only  when  the  man  raised  his  head  from  his  hand  whereon  he 
had  been  resting,  did  it  bound  away  with  startled  speed  into 
the  deeper  woodlands. 

It  was  the  man  himself  who  gave  the  point  and  character  to 
the  scene  ;  for  he  was  such  a  one  as  least  of  all  would  have 
been  expected  in  that  plate.  He  was  an  old  man,  as  could  be 
seen  at  once,  even  before  he  lifted  up  his  face,  for  his  hair 
was  as  white  as  snow,  though  singularly  long  and  abundant ; 


THE    WEARY    WAYFARER.  39 

but,  when  he  moved  his  dense  and  shaggy  eyebrows,  his  large 
mustache,  and  pointed  beard,  all  of  the  same  silvery  hue, 
confirmed  the  first  impression,  although  the  sunburnt  and  some 
what  ruddy  hues  of  his  complexion,  arid  the  full,  bright  black 
eye,  should  have  belonged  to  one  many  years  his  junior.  His 
dress  was  as  much  unsuited  to  a  foot-traveller,  as  it  was  easy 
to  see  he  was  ;  for,  besides  that  he  had  no  horse  or  any  beast 
of  burden,  his  feet  and  lower  limbs  were  all  besmirched  and 
stained  with  clay  and  mud  of  twenty  different  colors,  caught, 
it  would  seem,  from  as  many  different  sloughs  and  quagmires, 
as  his  being  there  at  all  seemed  old  and  unaccountable.  It 
was  a  complete  suite  of  the  heaviest  horse-armor  then  in  fash 
ion,  consisting  of  a  very  solid  corslet,  or  cuirass  of  plate,  worn 
over  a  loose  shirt  of  chain-mail,  the  sleeves  of  which  protected 
his  arms,  while. his  legs  and  feet  were  guarded  by  hose  of  the 
same  material,  and  splendid  shoes  of  steel.  His  helmet  lay 
on  the  ground  beside  him,  with  its  crest  bruised  and  dented, 
and  the  avantaille  wrenched  quite  away  from  the  sockets. 
Above  his  armor  he  wore  a  cassock  of  buff-leather,  guarded  on 
the  seams  with  lace,  and  embroidered  on  the  breast  with  the 
cognizance  of  a  chained  dragon  —  but  it  was  sorely  rent  and 
defaced,  and  cut  quite  through  in  many  places,  and  dabbled 
with  fresh  stains  of  gore,  and  soiled  as  if  with  clay.  His 
mail,  moreover,  was  much  battered ;  blood  might  be  seen 
oozing  from  beneath  the  rivets  of  his  gorget,  and  trickling 
down  his  right  arm  from  the  shoulder. 

He  was  very  faint,  too,  and  weary,  as  it  seemed  from  his  un 
certain,  vacillating  movements  ;  yet  he  did  not  wait  a  long  time, 
before  having  bathed  his  face  and  hands  in  the  cool  water,  and 
gathered  up  his  battered  casque  and  gauntlets,  he  arose  from 
his  seat,  and,  supporting  himself  on  the  truncheon  of  a  broken 
lance,  which  was  the  only  offensive  weapon  he  carried,  ex 
cept  a  long  and  formidable  dagger  at  his  belt,  took  the  road, 


40  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COTJCY. 

dragging  his  legs  wearily  along,  that  led  toward  Brussels.  He 
had  not,  however,  taken  many  steps  before  the  tramp  of  a  horse 
coming  down  the  road  at  a  light  gallop  caught  his  ear,  and  the 
next  moment  the  rider  crossed  the  brow  of  the  hill,  meeting 
him  face  to  face  at  a  short  distance  off.  It  was  a  gay  and 
handsome  boy,  splendidly  mounted  on  a  bright  blood  bay  Arab, 
dressed  in  a  gambesoon  of  fine  white  cloth,  with  horse  of  the 
same  fabric,  and  russet-leather  buskins,  all  richly  laced  with 
gold,  and  blazoned  on  the  breast  with  the  same  bearing  that 
decked  the  old  man's  cassock.  Under  the  gambesoon  he  had 
a  light  shirt  of  linked  mail,  the  edges  of  which  were  visible, 
and  the  neck  and  sleeves,  polished  as  bright  as  silver,  but  on 
his  head  he  wore  only  a  cap  of  embroidered  velvet  with  a  tall 
plume. 

The  moment  his  eye  fell  on  the  old  man,  staggering  feebly 
up  the  slope,  he  checked  his  horse  and  sprang  from  the  saddle. 

"  Mother  of  God !"  he  cried  in  tones  expressive  of  more 
consternation  than  could  be  deemed  befitting  an  eleve  of  chiv 
alry. — "  Matthieu  Montmesnil  in  this  plight !  Where  is  our 
lord  ?  Speak,  man,  where  is  Sir  Hugues  de  Coucy  ?" 

"Prisoner!  —  Ermold  de  Clermont.  Prisoner  to  that  base 
villain,  Talebard  Talebardin  !" 

"  Now,  by  St.  Paul !"  replied  the  boy,  his  face  flushing  fiery 
red,  "  I  scarce  can  credit  mine  own  ears  !  Hugues  de  Coucy 
yield  him  a  prisoner  to  a  churl — a  base  and  cruel  robber! 
That  would  I  not  believe,  though  I  did  see  it  happen.  Thou 
art  mad,  Montmesnil,  to  say  so." 

"  I  did  not  say  so,  Ermold,"  answered  the  old  man,  in  a 
broken  voice,  "  sooner  would  I  bite  out  my  tongue  with  my 
teeth,  that  it  should  tell  dishonor  of  the  Coucy.  Nathless, 
prisoner  he  is,  and  to  that  same  marauder.  When  he  refused 
to  yield  him,  rescue  or  no  rescue,  they  stripped  his  armor  off 
and  bound  him,  hand  and  foot,  and  keep  him  for  his  ransom." 


AN    OLD    MANS    TALE.  41 

"And  thou  didst  see  this?  —  Thou!  them!  Matthieu  de 
Montmesnil !  didst  thou  see  our  lord  bound  like  a  beast  before 
the  shambles,  and  madest  not  in  to  rescue  or  die  with  him ! 
Now,  by  St.  Paul !  I  do  believe  thy  wounds  have  made  thee 
mad,  that  thou  dost  lie  upon  thyself — for  from  no  other  tongue 
of  man  beside  thine  own  would  I  believe  thee  coward,  and 
recreant,  and  traitor  !  nor  do  I  now  believe  it.  Oh  !  say,  Mat- 
theiu,  say  it  is  false  that  thou  hast  spoken  !  Say  anything  but 
that  thou  hast  fled  and  left  thy  lord  in  durance !" 

"  I  may  say  nothing  but  the  truth,"  returned  the  other  per 
fectly  unmoved  ;  •"  yet  hear  me  out,  Ermold  —  thus  it  fell  out : 
To  be  short,  we  found  last  night  in  the  forest,  good  Master 
Morillon  of  Bruges,  bound  to  an  oak-tree,  and  his  fair  nephew 
and  his  train  all  foully  slaughtered  ;  and  learned  how  that  they 
had  been  beset  by  the  Rouge  Batard ;  and  the  young  lady, 
Marguerite,  carried  off  with  her  maidens.  And  so  we  mount 
ed  Master  Morillon  upon  Gray  Termagant,  and  rode  off  all 
night,  and  at  the  break  of  day  came  on  the  rogues  in  the  little 
vale  of  the  headless  cross,  and  charged  them  lustily.  Our 
lord  bored  the  Red  Bastard  through  and  through,  as  a  cook 
spits  an  ortolan  ;  and  Clement  de  Mareuil  and  I,  each  slew  his 
man  in  the  tourney ;  but  Raoul  broke  his  lance  with  the  gray 
monk  of  Soignies,  and  so  the  robber-priest  'scaped  harmless. 
And  just  at  that  same  instant,  while  our  steeds  were  blown 
and  all  our  lances  splintered,  lo !  you,  down  came  by  the  two 
cross-roads,  Talebard  Talebardin,  with  thirty  men  or  more, 
yelling  or  howling  like  incarnate  fiends,  charged  us  in  front  and 
rear,  and  bore  us  down  in  a  moment.  Sir  Hugues  slew  three 
men,  at  three  blows,  outright  with  his  two-handed  sword  ;  and 
I  and  the  rest  did  our  best — but  the  roan  horse  was  thrust 
into  the  eye  with  a  spear-point,  and  our  lord  felled  to  the  pum 
mel  with  a  mace  —  and  Clement  and  Raoul  were  slain  in  a 
moment — and  I  was  badly  hurt,  for  my  horse  went  down 


42  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

rolling  over  me,  when  it  was  a  minute  ere  I  could  get  loose. 
And  ere  I  did  so,  Sir  Hugues  was  fast  bound ;  and  so,  when  I 
saw  that  his  life  was  safe,  and  that  there  was  no  chance  of 
rescue  —  knowing  right  well  that  they  would  stick  the  'squire 
like  a  pig,  though  they  might  spare  the  knight — I  crawled 
into  the  thicket  while  the  robbers  were  all  thronging  round  our 
lord;  but  ere  I  had  got  off  a  spear's  length,  the  gray  priest,  who 
was  hurrying  back  to  join  his  comrades,  caught  me  fast  by  the 
throat  —  but  I  put  my  dagger  into  him,  up  to  the  dudgeon  hilt, 
under  his  corslet  rim.  And  here  I  am,  no  recreant  nor  cow 
ard  !  hey,  Ermold  ?" 

"  No,  no  ;  forgive  me,  Matthieu,  the  rash  word,  But  I  was 
half  distraught,  when  thou  didst  say  our  lord  was  prisoner  to 
the  incarnate  fiends.  But  how  didst  thou  come  hither — hast 
walked  six  leagues  since  day-break  in  thine  harness  ;  and  what 
wilt  thou  now  do,  to  get  our  good  lord  free  ?" 

"Only  five  leagues,  Ermold  —  only  five  leagues,  or  a  little 
over ;  and  that  were  no  great  thing,  but  that  my  harness  is,  as 
tkou  sayest,  not  the  best  gear  for  walking — and  that  being 
wounded,  I  can  not  move  so  lustily  as  common  ;  but  for  the  rest, 
I  came  hither,  Master  Ermold,  first  to  meet  thee,  whom  I  knew 
to  be  on  the  route  by  this  time,  with  tidings  from  Sir  Raimond 
of  Fontanges  —  not  that  thine  arm  is  strong  enough  to  do  much 
in  a  melee,  but  that  thy  heart  is  true,  and  thy  wit  some 
what  quick  and  pregnant.  And  now  let  us  take  counsel.  And, 
first,  what  news  bringest  thou  from  the  beau  sire  Raimond  ?" 

"  That  he  will  meet  our  lord  the  tenth  day  hence  with  sixty 
lances,  before  the  walls — " 

"Too  late! — the  tenth  day  hence  —  too  late  for  any  pur 
pose,"  answered  the  old  man  ;  "  then  must  we  on  to  Brussels  ; 
though  I  trow  the  churl  burghers  will  scarce  unbuckle  their 
fat  bags  to  pay  Sir  Hugues'  ransom,  much  less  take  bow  and 
spear  to  save  him." 


THE    FREE    COMPANIONS.  43 

"  No,  no  ;  that  is  no  scheme  at  all.  Besides,  it  is  keen  steel, 
and  not  red  gold,  that  must  be  ransom  for  De  Coucy.  We 
must  fall  in  and  rescue  him  by  the  strong  hand." 

"  If  the  strong  heart  could  make  the  strong  hand,  Ermold," 
said  the  old  warrior,  smiling  with  a  half-melancholy  glance  of 
admiration  at  the  kindling  eye  and  noble  features  of  the  gallant 
boy,  "  then  wert  thou  champion  such  as  rarely  has  couched 
lance  in  Flanders.  But  Heaven  preserve  thy  wits  ;  there  be 
thirty  spears  at  least  of  these  marauders  ;  and  we  be  an  old 
wounded  man  and  a  weak  boy  !  'Twill  not  do,  Ermold.  though 
dearly  would  I  buy  it,  if  it  would." 

"  Ay!  but  it  will,  though — ay!  but  it  will,  though — for  not 
three  miles  hence,  marching  hitherward — I  passed  them  an 
hour  since,  for  they  rode  slowly  not  to  break  down  their 
destries  —  are  thirteen  lances  of  Franche  Compte,  stout,  free 
companions,  every  one  of  them,  under  the  leading  of  Geoffroy 
*  Tete-Noir.'  I  have  two  thousand  gold  crowns  in  my 
wallet,  and  we  will  buy  them  to  the  deed,  and  win  our  master 
from  his  chains,  and  save  the  beautiful  Marguerite  —  God  send 
we  may!  —  for  she  was  very  kind  to  me  when  I  lay  ill  and 
sorely  hurt  in  Bruges,  and  gain  ourselves  high  honor !" 

"  Brave  boy !  brave  boy !  'twill  do !  turn  thy  nag  straight, 
ride  like  the  wind  to  meet  them,  and  bring  them  hither  with 
all  good  speed  to  the  fountain  ;  there  will  I  tarry  and  bind  my 
wounds  up  something,  for  they  shoot  now,  though  I  felt  them 
not  a  while  since." 

No  more  words  were  needed ;  the  page  wheeled  his  fleet 
Arab  round,  and  touching  him  with  the  spur,  darted  away  like 
an  arrow  from  the  bow,  and  crossed  the  hill-top,  and  was  out  of 
sight  in  a  moment.  The  aged  esquire  in  the  meantime,  dragged 
himself  back  to  the  well,  and,  his  immediate  apprehensions 
quelled,  set  about  unriveting  his  armor  and  binding  up  his 
wounds  in  earnest.  As  he  did  so,  however,  he  muttered  to 


44  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

himself,  "  It  is  for  the  last  time  !  the  last,  most  surely !  I  but 
must  needs  have  all  the  strength  I  may  for  the  stern  struggle  — 
stern  it  will  be,  I  warrant  me  !  and  then  will  I  die  under  shield 
freely,  and  willingly.  Thou  knowest !"  he  added,  turning  his 
eyes  reverentially  upward,  "  so  I  may  see  him  free  !" 

Scarcely  had  he  finished  his  brief  soliloquy,  before  the  heavy 
clang  of  armor  was  heard  coming  up  the  hill  at  the  trot ;  and 
shortly*  afterward  the  spear-heads  and  bright  pennons  of  the 
men-at-arms  were  seen  glittering  above  the  bushes  ;  and  then 
the  party  wheeled  into  full  view,  fourteen  stout  cavaliers,  all 
well-armed  in  bright  suits  of  Flanders  iron,  with  two  or  three 
led  horses,  and  a  mule  or  two  loaded  with  pieces  of  spare 
armor,  lances,  and  provender,  and  several  skins  of  wine.  The 
leader,  a  very  powerful  man,  whose  jet  black  hair,  beard  and 
mustaches,  curling  in  fierce  luxuriance,  justified  fully  his 
soubriquet  of  Tete-Noir,  was  busied  in  deep  converse  with 
Ermold  the  page,  although  by  the  heavy  frown  that  lowered 
on  his  brow,  and  the  half-despondent  look  of  the  boy,  it  ap 
peared  that  he  was  not  yet  wrought  to  conviction. 

As  they  reached  the  little  hollow  by  the  fountain,  their 
trumpet  sounded  a  halt ;  and  while  the  leader  dismounted,  and 
strode  up  to  question  Montmesnil,  the  men  picketed  their  horses, 
and  prepared  for  the  morning  meal. 

At  first  the  chief  of  the  free  companions  appeared  reluctant 
to  engage  in  the  adventure,  alleging  the  superior  numbers  of 
the  marauders,  the  difficulty  of  finding  them,  and  the  prejudices 
of  his  men,  who  might  not  be  willing  to  attack  men  of  a  class 
from  which — though  considering  themselves  soldiers  of  honor 
— they  were  not,  after  all,  very  far  removed. 

Here,  however,  it  seems  he  counted  without  his  host,  for 
one  of  the  others,  a  sort  of  lieutenant  or  second  in  command, 
called  out  loudly  when  he  heard  the  words  of  his  leader,  deny 
ing,  with  a  fearful  imprecation,  that  they  had  aught  to  do  any- 


THE    BARGAIN.  45 

thing  in  common  with  such  low  thieves  as  Talebardin.  "  Be 
sides,"  he  added,  "  it  were  foul  sin  and  shame,  to  suffer  such  a 
knight  as  Hugues  de  Coucy  to  linger  in  such  durance  without 
blow  stricken  in  the  cause.  Why,  before  God  !  we  should  be 
held  the  shame  and  scorn  of  all  France  !  No  !  no  !  Geoffroy, 
let  the  page  shell  out  the  two  thousand  crowns  here,  and  let 
the  'squire  pledge  us  his  master's  honor,  provided  we  redeem 
him  man  and  armor,  and  set  the  damsels  free  —  five  thousand 
more  to  be  paid  down  in  Brussels,  at  good  St.  Martin's  tide  — 
and  we  will  breakfast  here,  and  ride  right  on  and  win  him  with 
war  weapons !" 

The  bargain  was  soon  concluded,  and  after  a  hearty  meal 
the  trumpet  again  blew  to  horse  ;  and  Matthieu  being  provided 
with  a  fresh  casque  and  other  arms,  and  mounted  on  one  of 
the  led  chargers,  they  rode  off  at  a  round  pace,  for  the  vale  of 
the  headless  cross. 

Two  hours'  hard  riding  brought  them  to  the  spot,  which  was 
still  marked  distinctly  with  the  dread  tokens  of  the  fray,  several 
dead  horses  lay  upon  the  spot,  among  others  the  roan  Andalu- 
sian  of  the  knight,  despoiled  of  his  rare  armor  and  magnificent 
housings,  and  the  bodies  of  Clement  and  Raoul,  where  they 
had  fallen  ;  and  all  the  road  was  poached  up  by  the  hoofs  of 
the  heavy  chargers,  and  the  gore  stood  in  many  a  hoof-track 
curdled  and  horrible.  But  fearful  as  such  a  spectacle  would 
be  deemed  now-a-days,  it  was  of  occurrence  too  frequent,  at 
that  time,  to  create  any  wonder  or  disgust  in  the  bosoms,  even 
of  the  young  and  delicate  of  either  sex,  much  less  in  these 
stern  soldiers.  They  halted,  however,  on  the  spot,  and  exam 
ined  the  ground  very  closely.  And  here  they  would  probably 
have  been  entirely  at  fault  had  they  been  soldiers  of  a  more 
regular  order ;  for  there  was  no  distinct  track  from  the  place 
leading  away  in  any  one  direction,  but,  as  it  seemed,  the  whole 
party  had  dispersed  to  every  quarter  of  the  compass,  leaving 


46  SIR     HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

no  clew  whereby  they  might  be  followed  to  their  haunts.  It 
"was  not  long,  however,  before  the  sagacity  of  the  free  compan 
ions  detected  the  probable  direction  ;  and  the  troop  again  got 
into  motion,  though  their  movements  were  now  slower  and  far 
more  guarded  than  they  had  been  heretofore.  After  crossing 
the  forest  for  about  an  hour,  they  reached  a  wide  glade  or 
woodtrack,  through  which  it  was  evident  that  the  marauders 
had  passed,  for  the  greensward  was  cut  up  by  prints  of  hoofs, 
which  one  of  the  free  lances  confidently  asserted  to  be  the 
same  as  those  he  had  examined  in  the  vale  of  the  cross.  A 
closer  investigation  proved  that  they  must  have  passed  very 
recently,  for  a  fresh  blood-drop  was  discovered  on  the  grass, 
still  wet,  which  must  have  fallen  from  some  wounded  rider  or 
spurgalled  horse's  flank. 

Here,  then,  a  second  halt  was  held,  and  three  or  four  of  the 
most  sagacious  men  were  sent  off  in  different  directions,  to  re 
connoitre  the  positions  of  the  enemy.  It  was  not  many  min 
utes  before  the  first  returned,  bearing  the  tidings  that  they  were 
close  at  hand,  halted,  as  it  seemed,  for  the  evening,  in  a  small 
green  savannah,  half  circled  by  a  swampy  streamlet.  The 
others  soon  came  in  confirming  their  comrade's  tidings,  and 
bringing  the  further  intelligence,  that  they  were  eight-and-twenty 
men,  well,  although  variously  armed — that  their  horses  were 
picketed  close  by,  while  the  troopers  were  feasting  around  a 
fire  which  they  had  kindled  —  the  knight  heavily  ironed,  and 
the  females  lying  a  short  way  aloof,  under  a  clump  of  trees, 
while  some  -of  the  leaders  of  the  party  appeared  to  be  throwing 
dice  for  the  possession  of  their  fairer  captives^ 

Few  minutes  were  required  to  form  the  plan  of  action.  It 
was  necessary  to  ford  the  brook  a  little  way  above  the  meadow, 
where  the  routiers  lay,  so  as  to  gain  firm  ground  and  space  for 
a  charge  ;  and  before  doing  this,  Geoffrey  Tete-Noir  examined 
the  girths  and  stirrup-leathers  of  every  charger  in  his  troop, 


THE  ATTACK THE  RESCUE.  47 

inspected  all  the  arms  in  silence,  and  then,  lowering-  his  vizor, 
mounted  his  strong  charger.  And  here  the  indomitable  valor 
of  old  Matthieu  sttone  out  resplendent.  He  was  so  worn  with 
his  wounds  and  weariness,  that  for  the  last  ten  miles  he  had 
hardly  been  able  to  keep  his  saddle  ;  but  now  he  roused  and 
kindled  to  the  fray,  as  an  old  war-horse  to  the  blast  of  trumpets. 
All  prayers  of  Erinold,  all  exhortations  of  the  condottierii,  that 
he  would  remain  at  rest  till  the  fray  was  over,  were  unheeded 
—  scorned  —  before  even  Geoffrey  Tete-Noir  he  rode  in  the 
van. 

They  forded  the  stream  with  success,  they  wheeled  around 
the  hill-side,  and  made  ready  for  the  onset,  but  in  the  mean 
time  the  clash  and  clang  of  their  coming,  aroused  the  routiers, 
and  they  sprang  hastily  to  their  arms.  Most  of  them  were 
indeed  mounted — but  all  were  in  confusion,  and  many  scarcely 
firm  in  their  saddles,  when  the  free  companions  poured  like  a 
torrent  down  the  hill  —  "Tete-Noir  —  Tete-Noir  for  Tankar- 
ville  !  De  Coucy  to  the  rescue  and  charge  home  !" 

The  shock  was  terrible,  the  fight  was  fought  out  furiously. 
The  superior  numbers,  and  the  despair  of  the  routiers,  would 
have  perhaps  counterbalanced  the  better  horses,  and  more 
complete  equipment  of  the  men-at-arms,  but  the  disarray  in 
which  they  were  taken,  was  fearfully  against  them  ;  the  giant 
strength  of  Tete-Noir,  the  high  and  fiery  valor  of  old  Mont- 
mesnil,  and  the  mad  impetuosity  of  the  page  Ermold,  who 
fought  in  his  laced  jerkin,  foremost  among  the  lances,  swept 
the  marauders  down  like  chaff  before  the  whirlwind. 

Ere  yet  the  strife  was  ended,  while  the  robbers,  driven  back 
to  the  streamlet's  brink,  were  striving  desperately  to  escape, 
and  the  free  lances  as  desperately  bearing  them  to  the  earth, 
Matthieu  had  hewed  his  way  through  the  melee,  and  reached 
his  liege  lord,  who  had  started  up  from  the  ground,  but  was 
prevented  by  his  bonds  from  joining  in  the  fray.  A  stream  of 


48  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

gore  was  pouring  from  the  old  man's  vizor,  and  from  a  dozen 
rents  in  his  plate  armor,  and  he  so  staggered  as  he  leaped  to 
the  ground,  that  he  had  well  nigh  fallen ;  yet  he  rushed  up  to 
Hugues  de  Coucy,  and  with  his  dagger  wrenched  out  the  rivets 
from  his  manacles  and  fetters,  and  tore  them  from  the  limbs  of 
his  loved  lord.  Then  he  sank  down  upon  his  knees  and 
clasped  the  knight's  legs  with  his  aged  arms,  and  wet  his  feet 
with  honest,  loyal  tears. 

"  Thou  art  free  —  thou  art  free,"  he  cried, "  my  master  !  thou 
art  free,  and  I  die  rejoicing !  yet  say,  before  I  die,  thou  par- 
donest  my  leaving  thee  when  captive,  for  to  this  end  I  left 
thee,  to  this  end  only.  Say,  master,  that  I  died  thy  true  and 
loyal  'squire  !" 

"  No !  by  St.  Paul  of  Tankarville,"  the  knight  exclaimed, 
"no!  by  St.  Paul  of  Tankarville! — but  a  true  knight  and 
loyal !" — and  with  the  word  he  stooped  and  took  the  old  man's 
sword  out  of  his  hand,  and  striking  him  slightly  on  the  shoulder, 
he  continued,  "for  with  thine  own  sword — nor  ever  was  a 
better!  —  I  dub  thee  knight — before  the  ladies,  before  God 
and  good  St.  George  !  Rise  up,  good  knight  and  gallant  — 
Sir  Matthieu  de  Montmesnil,"  and  he  raised  him  to  his  feet  as 
he  spoke,  and  opened  his  vizor,  and  kissed  his  ashy  brow. 
But  a  mighty  gleam  of  exultation  flashed  over  the  features  of 
the  dying  man,  and  he  gasped  out  with  a  faint  voice,  but  joyous 
accents,  "  A  knight!  a  knight  —  and  by  the  honored  hand  of 
the  Coucy!  Too  much  —  oh,  too,  too  much!" 

Then  the  count,  seeing  that  his  spirit  was  on  the  point  of 
taking  flight,  laid  him  on  the  ground  softly,  and  took  his  hand 
and  knelt  in  tears  beside  him. 

"When  I  am  gone,"  the  old  man  feebly  gasped,  "make  — 
Ermold,  thine  esquire  !  —  for  though  young,  he  is  true,  and  — 
and  valiant!  Bury  my  sword  beside  me — farewell  —  De 
Coucy  —  and  forget  not  old  —  old  Matthieu  !" 


TWO    DAYS    AFTER.  49 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    MEN-AT-ARMS. 

THE  second  morning  after  the  defeat  of  the  routiers,  and 
the  death  of  Matthieu  de  Montmesnil,  broke  fair  and  cloudless; 
there  had  been  a  smart  hoar  frost  on  the  preceding  night,  and, 
although  the  sun  was  already  high  in  the  heavens,  the  crystal 
fretwork  of  the  rime  still  glittered  on  the  fern  and  briers, 
bright  as  a  warrior's  mail ;  the  air  was  clear  and  sharp,  and 
full  of  that  "invigorating  freshness  which  is  even  more  agreeable 
to  the  senses  of  a  healthful  frame  than  the  luxurious  stillness 
of  a  summer  day,  and  all  the  forest,  in  which  our  scene  still 
lies,  was  alive  with  the  gay  notes  of  a  thousand  tiny  warblers. 

Faint,  however,  was  the  impression  produced  by  the  bright 
sunshine,  or  the  bracing  gale,  or  the  continued  melody  with 
which  the  woods  were  vocal,  on  the  spirits  of  the  stout  cham 
pion,  Hugues  de  Coucy,  as  he  rode  onward  through  the  woody 
passes,  attended  only  by  the  page  Ermold,  deep  sorrow  brood 
ing  on  his  bold  lineaments  and  broad,  fair  brow.  He  was 
sheathed  once  again  from  head  to  foot  in  his  own  splendid 
panoply,  which  had  been  won  back  from  the  robbers,  perfect 
and  uninjured ;  he  backed,  too,  as  before,  the  beautiful  gray 
Arab  Termagant ;  but  the  three  stout  and  valiant  soldiers, 
who  had  so  lately  followed  him  in  all  the  pride  and  power  of 
noble  manhood,  now  lay  beneath  the  frozen  earth,  cold,  voice 
less,  deaf — even  to  the  soul-stirring  trumpets!  and  for  the 
superb  charger,  clad  like  its  rider  in  complete  war  array,  and 
like  him  panting  for  the  shock  of  battle,  a  slow  and  sober 
mule,  heavily  laden  with  the  demipique  and  bardings  of  the 
slain  destrier,  plodded  along  with  drooping  crest  and  dogged 

3 


50  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

air,  shrewdly  exercising  the  patience  of  the  young  fiery  page 
who  led  him  by  the  rein,  with  many  an  execration  at  the  slow 
gait  from  which  neither  blows  nor  caresses  could  compel  him. 
No  word  spoke  Hugues,  except  at  times  a  call  to  Ermold,  "  in 
God's  name  to  scourge  on  that  lazy  garron,  else  should  night 
fall  and  find  them  in  the  forest."  Thus  passed  the  morning, 
dully  and  wearily  indeed ;  but  as  the  sun  reached  the  zenith, 
the  travellers  gained  the  summit  of  a  long  sandy  hill,  whence 
they  might  see  the  woodlands  melting,  as  it  were,  gradually 
into  cultivated  fields  ;  and  beyond  these  a  wide  tract  of  fertile 
champaign,  intersected  by  many  broad  streams  of  water,  all 
gleaming  gayly  to  the  sunlight ;  and  in  the  middle  ground  of 
the  picture  the  tall  Gothic  steeples  and  grotesque  towers, 
which  marked  a  city  of  the  middle  ages,  shooting  up  into  the 
thin  clear  air,  above  the  crowded  roofs  of  Brussels. 

"  Soh  !  Ermold,"  exclaimed  the  knight,  halting,  as  he  spoke, 
to  allow  the  boy  to  draw  up  abreast  of  him,  "  here,  then,  at 
length  is  Brussels  ;  and  look  you — to  spare  time  which  of 
God's  truth  we  do  lack  sorely  —  I  with  all  speed  shall  gallop 
forward ;  come  on  as  best  thou  may,  thou'lt  find  me  at  the 
Lion  d'Or,  in  the  Place  d'Armes.  I  must  purvey  myself  a  des 
trier,  and  thee  a  coat  of  plate  ;  an'  if  thou  art  to  be  hereafter 
mine  esquire,  and  fain  I  would,  if  it  be  possible,  pick  up  some 
two  or  three  strong  varlets  to  ride  with  us,  till  such  time  as  my 
brother  Hubert  bring  up  my  loading  with  the  broad  banner  of 
our  house.  We  must  be  on  our  route  again  forthwith,  so  we 
would  save  the  Chatelaine  de  Vermeuil  an  onslaught  from 
these  cursed  routiers,  of  which  they  spoke  unguarded  and  un 
heeding,  the  while  I  lay  their  captive." 

"  Fear  me  not,  my  good  lord,"  replied  the  youth,  coloring 
high  with  pleasure,  "  I  will  'make  no  delay  on  the  road,  and 
shall  be  up,  I  warrant  me,  at  the  Golden  Lion,  ere  you  be 
reaclv  to  set  onward  !" 


THE    HORSE-DEALER.  51 

The  knight  bowed  his  head  in  answer,  and  slackened  the 
rein  of  his  fiery  horse,  which  tarried  not  for  any  farther  sig 
nal,  but  darted  away  like  an  arrow  shot  from  the  long-bow  of 
an  English  archer,  over  rough  and  smooth,  up  the  long  steep 
ascent,  and  down  the  headlong  hill,  at  the  same  long  unvary 
ing  gallop.  Not  once,  no,  not  for  a  moment,  did  he  lag  or 
falter ;  not  once  did  he  suffer  the  reins  to  fall  loose  from  his 
rider's  hand,  but  straining  eagerly  against  the  bit,  swept  for 
ward  with  a  regular  and  gentle  motion,  like  that  of  a  bird 
through  the  air,  and  within  half  an  hour  stood,  without  a  pant 
of  his  deep  lungs,  or  a  foam-spot  on  his  housings,  before  the 
barbican  and  moated  walls  of  Brussels. 

A  few  minutes  were  consumed  in  parleying  with  the  captain 
of  the  burgher-guard,  who  was  on  duty  at  the  gates ;  but  this  end 
ed,  no  farther  interruption  occurred.  So  that  before  he  had  been 
an  hour  absent  from  the  page,  the  knight  was  installed  in  the  best 
chamber  of  the  Lion  d'Or,  as  a  well-remembered  and  much- 
honored  guest,  with  a  cold  capon,  and  a  flagon  of  Burgundy 
wine  mulled  with  spices,  at  his  elbow,  the  jolly  landlord  assur 
ing  him  that  he  had  sent  for  a  maquignon,  who  would  speedily 
furnish  him  forthwith  a  charger,  such  as  Duke  Philip  would 
himself,  God  prosper  him,  be  proud  to  mount  in  battle ;  and 
that  by  good  luck,  the  Herr  Jacob  Vanderneer,  deacon  of  the 
armorer's  guild,  was  taking  his  nooning  down  below  when  his 
worship  dismounted,  and  that  he  had  departed  homeward  in 
some  heat  to  load  his  journeyman  with  harness  for  the  good 
knight's  inspection. 

For  once  no  mighty  discrepance  occurred  between  the 
promise  and  performance  ;  for  scarcely  was  Sir  Hugues'  ap 
petite  appeased,  before  the  tramping  of  horses  in  the  court, 
under  the  windows,  summoned  him  from  his  seat  to  inspect 
the  dealer's  cattle.  This  worthy,  stimulated  by  the  hope  of 
high  prices,  and  pretty  well  satisfied,  by  the  great  reputation 


52  SIR    HUOUES    DE    COL'CY. 

of  the  count  of  Tankarville  for  an  accomplished  cavalier,  that 
any  of  the  ordinary  tricks  of  the  trade  would  be  on  this  occa 
sion  thrown  away,  had  brought  out  in  the  first  instance  the 
flower  of  his  stables,  resolving  merely  to  atone  for  this  devia 
tion  from  ordinary  rules  by  demanding  at  least  twice  the  value 
of  each  particular  animal.     There  were,  indeed,  several  fine- 
looking  beasts  among  the  dozen  or  fifteen  which  were  paraded 
to  and  fro  by  the   grooms  on  the  pavements  ;  but  one  espe 
cially  caught  the  baron's  eye  as  fully  capable  of  supplying  the 
place  of  his  lost  Aridalusian.     It  was  a  tall  and  powerful  black 
horse,  with  a  white  spot  on  the  face,  and  one  white  foot  be 
hind  ;  and,  as  the  practised  judgment  of  Sir  Hugues  at  once 
determined,  had  no   small  intermixture   of  Barbary  or   Arab 
blood  with  the  best  Flemish  strain.     The  price  demanded  for 
this   charger,  although  after  he  had    nearly  kicked  out  the 
brains  of  one  groom,  and  had  actually  pulled  a  second  out  of 
his   saddle  with  his  teeth,  and  shaken  him  as  a  terrier-dog 
would  a  rat,  the  dealer  admitted  him  to  be  a  vicious  devil  — 
which  trait,  however,  he  affected  to  consider  as  an  advantage, 
rather  than  the  reverse  to  one  so  famed  for  horsemanship  as 
the    sieur   de    Coucy — was    even   for   that    age    stupendous. 
Without  seeming,  however,  to  consider  this,  Hugues  ordered 
the  black  horse  to  be   set   aside,  and  proceeded  to  select  a 
second  by  no  means  inferior  in  blood  or  beauty,  though  some 
what  slighter  made  and  lower  than  the  first,  which  he  judged 
fit  to  carry  Ermold  in  his  new  character  of  esquire.     While 
he  was  yet  engaged  in  examining  the  chestnut,  the  landlord 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder  and  presented  three  tall  fellows, 
whom  he  declared  to  be  honest  lads,  well  known  to  himself 
two  of  whom  had  seen  some  service,  and  were  eager  to  be 
admitted  to  the  preferment  of  following  a  lord  so  famous.    The 
first  of  these,  him  who  had  never  served,  the  knight  at  once 
rejected  ;  and  then,  after  asking  a  few  questions  of  the  others, 


TRIAL    OF    HORSEMANSHIP.  53 

he  desired  the  taller  of  the  two,  who  was  likewise  the  older 
soldier,  to  jump  up  on  the  black  horse,  bare-backed  as  he  was, 
and  ride  him  round  the  yard.  The  grooms  laughed  aloud  at 
the  coolness  with  which  the  baron  gave  this  order,  as  though 
it  were  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world,  and  the  maquignon, 
who  was  acquainted  with  the  aspirant,  cried  out,  "  Have  a 
care  !  have  a  care,  Giles !  for  he's  as  full  of  tricks,  ay !  and 
as  stubborn  as  a  fiend." 

"  And  if  he  be  the  fiend  himself,  I  care  not,  Master  Andrew," 
answered  the  fellow  ;  "  for  the  foul  fiend  had  to  carry  Master 
Michael  Scott,  as  men  say,  the  Scottish  magician,  across  the 
seas  from  Salamanca  to  St.  Andrew's,  and  I  trow  Master  Scott 
could  hardly  back  a  destrier  with  a  free  lance  of  Flanders." 

And  with  the  words  he  strode  up  to  the  black  charger,  and 
laying  his  hand  on  the  mane,  sprang,  almost  as  it  seemed  with 
out  an  effort,  to  his  back.  In  an  instant  the  fierce  brute  reared 
bolt  upright,  and  positively  leaped  endlong  into  the  air,  alight 
ing  on  the  pavement  with  such  violence  that  sparks  of  fire 
flashed  from  the  stones  under  the  dint  of  his  hoofs  ;  and  scarce 
had  he  alighted  before  he  fell  into  a  succession  of  plunges, 
kicking  and  lounging  to  and  fro  like  a  very  devil,  but  all  to  no 
avail ;  for  the  trooper  sat  him  as  though  he  had  been  a  portion 
of  the  animal,  till,  having  run  through  all  the  changes  of  its 
vice,  it  became  quiet  for  a  few  seconds'  space,  when  he  dis 
mounted,  and  walked  back  to  his  place  with  a  well-satisfied 
smile  on  his  countenance,  not  in  the  least  out  of  breath  or  dis 
composed  by  his  late  exertion. 

"  Well  ridden,  Giles,"  exclaimed  the  knight,  "  exceedingly 
well  ridden  ;  now  an'  thou  listest  to  follow  faithfully  my  banner, 
thou  mayest  do  Avell  in  these  wars." 

"  So  please  you,  beau  sire,"  answered  the  man,  "  I'll  do  my 
best  for  it ;  and  little  doubt  to  win  your  favor,  if  honest  bearing 
and  stout  blows  will  win  it !" 


54  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

"  That  they  will,  that  they  will,  good  fellow,"  answered  Sir 
Hugues ;  "  never  thou  fear  it !  and  thou,  sir,  wilt  thou  brook  the 
trial,  and  mount  black  Sathanas  there  ?"  he  continued,  turning 
to  the  younger  man. 

"  I  will,  Sir  Hugues,  I  will,"  he  answered  humbly  ;  "  for  I 
am  not  afraid ;  though,  to  say  truth,  a  man  may  ride  well,  and 
yet  not  be  a  match  for  yon  black  devil.  But  I  will  risk  a  fall 
for  it.  No  man  shall  say  Francon  Van  Voorhis  sought  service 
with  the  count  of  Tankarville,  and  when  he  might  have  gained, 
lost  it  for  lack  of  heart." 

As  he  finished  speaking,  he  too  crossed  the  yard,  and  suc 
ceeded  in  mounting  the  formidable  horse,  which  immediately 
resorted  to  its  old  tricks,  displaying  no  small  degree  of  activity 
and  skill  in  controlling  the  first  plunges.  As  if,  however,  he 
had  been  but  irritated  by  his  rider's  efforts  to  subdue  him,  snort 
ing  and  foaming  till  his  black,  glossy  limbs  were  spotted  as  if 
with  snow-flakes,  the  mighty  horse  dashed  to  arid  fro,  scatter 
ing  the  grooms  like  sheep,  and  at  length  freeing  his  head  by  a 
violent  effort,  and  yerking  out  his  heels  a  dozen  times  in  suc 
cession,  hurled  the  youth  Francon  from  his  back,  like  a  quoit 
from  the  arm  of  a  strong  player.  Luckily  for  the  man,  he  fell 
upon  a  heap  of  horse-litter,  which  had  been  swept  out  from  the 
inn-stables,  else  had  he  never  moved  limb  any  more !  as  it 
was,  he  was  sorely  bruised ;  yet  as  he  rose,  lame  and  limping, 
and  shook  the  straws  from  his  doublet,  he  laughed  cheerfully, 
and  said :  "  Better  luck  next  time,  sieur  horse,  thou  mayest 
unseat  me,  but  the  fiend's  in't  if  thou  canst  scare  me."  And 
he  made  as  if  he  would  have  tried  his  fortune  again ;  for  he 
offered  to  catch  the  horse,  which  was  careering  furiously  about 
the  court,  no  one  daring  to  approach  it ;  but  as  he  did  so,  "  That 
will  do,  that  will  do,  my  lad,"  cried  the  knight,  "  for  one  day, 
at  the  least.  Thou  hast  done  well,  and  wilt  do  better  yet,  I 
warrant  me,  ere  thou  hast  followed  the  Coucy's  banner  a  twelve- 


THE    WILD    DESriUKR    BROKEN.  55 

month.  Get  thee  in  with  thy  fellow  Giles  ;  and  mine  host, 
give  them  each  a  quart  of  Rhenish,  and  that  presently.  We 
must  to  horse  ere  long — but  now  to  conquer  this  swart  demon, 
which  must  be  done  at  once,  if  we  would  have  him  useful." 
And  instantly  as  the  horse  darted  past  him,  he  snatched  the 
halter  with  his  right  hand,  and  brought  him  up  with  a  jerk  that 
threw  him,  for  a  moment,  on  his  haunches  ;  then,  all  armed  as 
he  was  in  the  heaviest  panoply  of  the  day,  he  vaulted  to  his 
bare  back  at  a  single  bound,  and  plunged  the  rowels  of  his 
gilded  spurs  up  to  the  head  in  his  flanks.  For  a  few  moments 
the  struggle  was  tremendous  ;  at  first  it  seemed  as  if  no  human 
power  or  skill  could  have  controlled  the  frantic  efforts  of  the 
furious  stallion ;  but  as  the  knight  sat  firm,  baffling  each  suc 
cessive  plunge,  and  answering  every  kick  with  a  corresponding 
motion  of  his  armed  heels,  it  soon  became  evident  that  he  must 
be  the  master  of  the  day ;  for,  after  a  while,  every  plunge  was 
weaker  than  that  which  preceded  it,  and  anon  quite  baffled  and 
subdued,  panting  and  blown — the  proud  war-horse  stood  still. 
Then  the  knight  wheeled  him  round,  and  walked  him  to  and  fro, 
and  patted  his  high  crest,  drawing  off  the  mailed  gauntlet  from  his 
hand  ;  and  again  pricking  him  gently  with  the  spur,  put  him 
through  all  his  paces,  and  passaged  him  around  the  court,  wind 
ing  him  to  and  fro  with  the  least  touch  of  the  rein,  as  gently 
as  a  lady's  jennet.  Then  he  dismounted,  and  standing  by  his 
head,  caressed  him  quietly  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  walked 
away  toward  the  stables  of  the  inn,  the  conquered  destrier  fol 
lowing  as  peaceably  behind  him,  as  though  he  had  been  the 
tamest  cart-jade  in  the  city.  While  this  strange  scene  had 
been  in  progress,  Ermold  de  Clermont  arrived  at  the  inn-gates, 
mounted  as  we  haATe  described  him,  on  the  bay  Arab,  and  lead 
ing  the  mule  loaded  with  the  bard  and  housings  of  the  baron's 
horse  ;  and  stood  in  silence  looking  on  the  good  knight's  prow 
ess,  till  the  black  stallion  was  completely  vanquished.  Then 


56  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

he  stepped  up  to  Hugues,  and  took  the  bridle  of  his  destrier, 
and  transmitted  to  the  grooms  of  the  hostlery,  his  lord's  com 
mands  to  clean  and  rub  down  his  new  purchase  thoroughly, 
and  arm  him  with  the  full  horse-armor  and  housings,  as  speed 
ily  as  might  be. 

The  countenance  of  the  two  troopers,  who  had  not  yet  gone, 
having  waited  to  see  how  their  new  lord  rode,  evinced 
how  vastly  he  had  risen  in  their  estimation  ;  and  the  elder  of 
the  two  kneeled  down  before  him,  as  he  returned  from  the 
stables  and  said,  "  Hear  me  swear,  beau  sire,  never  to  swerve 
or  falter,  never  to  turn  back  from  the  deadliest  brunt  of  battle, 
never  to  draw  the  rein  or  sheath  the  sword,  so  long  as  you  are 
in  the  field  before  me  ;  for  here  I  vow  myself  your  man,  through 
weal  and  wo  for  ever,  in  life  and  unto  death  !  For  if  I  leave 
thy  side,  while  thou  art  in  the  field  and  fighting,  or  if  I  die  not 
on  thy  body  when  thou  liest  under  shield,  full  knightly,  then 
may  my  patron-saint  desert  me  in  mine  utmost  need  ;  may  good 
Saint  Peter  lock  heaven's  gate  against  me  ;  and  hell  receive 
my  soul !  For  sure  thou  art  the  noblest  knight,  the  stoutest 
leader,  the  completest  champion,  that  couches  spear  in  Christ 
endom  !" 

The  other,  as  he  perceived  his  fellow's  action,  and  heard 
the  vow  which  he  uttered,  threw  himself  on  his  knees  beside 
him  and  stretching  out  his  arms,  cried  with  aloud  voice  :  "  Me  ! 
me  !  —  me  too  !  good  knight ;  hear  me,  for  I  swear  likewise" — 
and  all  the  while  the  big  tears  rolled  down  his  sunburnt  cheek, 
and  he  sobbed  audibly,  so  deeply  did  he  feel  the  responsibility 
of  the  service  which  he  was  undertaking  ;  till,  as  Giles  finished 
his  speech,  he  uttered  a  loud  "  amen  !  on  my  soul  be  the  oath 
— :amen!" 

A  bright  gleaming  smile  played  over  the  animated  features 
of  the  knight,  as  he  listened  to  the  fervent  exclamations,  and 
looked  upon  the  agitated  countenances  of  his  followers  ;  for 


THE    APPROVAL.  57 

he  was  in  truth  well  satisfied  ;  knowing  that  in  minds  of  low 
and  grovelling  order  there,  are  no  springs  of  such  enthusiasm, 
and  arguing  thence  that  these  his  newly  chosen  men-at-arms 
were  moulded  of  the  right  metal  for  making  chivalrous  and 
gallant  soldiers. 

"  Well  spoken,  both  of  ye,"  he  answered,  "  well  spoken,  and 
I  thank  ye  for  it ;  and  if  ye  be  true  followers  to  the  Coucy,  trust 
well  that  he  to  you  will  be  true  lord  and  loyal ;  and  for  the  rest 
of  God's  truth,  I  have  seen  some  service,  and,  so  the  good 
saints  prosper  me,  shall  see  more  ere  I  die  ;  and  if  ye  list  to 
lay  lance  in  the  rest  among  the  foremost,  ye  shall  not  long  lack 
opportunity,  nor,  it  may  be,  advancement.  Go  in  now,  go  in 
and  refresh  ye  ;  and  that  done,  we  will  fit  ye  with  good  plate- 
coats,  and  tough  lances,  and  we  will  ride  forth  this  same  night 
upon  adventure.  But  hold  !  hold  !  I  would  see  your  judgment 
in  this  same  article  of  horseflesh  —  choose,  each  of  ye  a  char 
ger  out  of  the  lot  before  ye,  and  if  your  choosing  like  me,  why 
I  will  stand  the  upshot." 

With  many  thanks,  the  soldiers  turned  to  the  grateful  task, 
proceeding  to  the  business  with  so  much  alacrity  and  read 
iness  as  proved  them,  in  their  own  estimation  at  the  least, 
masters  of  the  art.  It  was  not,  however,  till  after  much  chaf 
fering  with  the  maquignon,  and  much  consultation  with  each 
other,  and  much  more  examination  than  the  knight  had  judged 
necessary  before  choosing  his  own  destrier,  that  they  pitched 
upon  two  powerful  and  well-bred  horses,  which  meeting  Sir 
Hugues'  approbation,  were  set  apart  with  those  which  he  had 
already  selected. 

This  matter  of  the  horses  having  been  thus  satisfactorily  ar 
ranged,  it  remained  only  to  equip  them  and  their  riders  with 
their  necessary  arms  and  housings  ;  and  scarcely  had  the  hest- 
lers  led  away  the  chargers  to  get  them  fitted  at  the  saddler's 
with  their  steel-plated  demipique  and  chainwork  bridles,  before 


58  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

the  deacon  of  the  armorers  reappeared,  accompanied  by  four 
or  five  stout  serving-men,  dividing  among  them  the  different 
pieces  of  two  complete  suits  of  armor,  suited  as  nearly  as  might 
be  guessed  to  the  page  Ermold  ;  on  trial,  however,  one  of  the 
two  proved  quite  too  large  ;  while  the  other,  which  fitted  per 
fectly,  was  pronounced  by  the  knight  to  be  of  too  splendid  a 
fashion  for  his  esquire,  being  all  engrailed  with  damasking  of 
silver. 

"  Ermold  shall  go  with  you,"  he  said,  "  good  master  armorer, 
and  I  will  trust  to  you  to  fit  him  forth  becomingly,  let  the  har 
ness  be  of  plate  —  bright  steel,  but  without  ornament ;  if  it  be 
of  Alnayn  rivet,  or  from  a  Milan  forge,  so  much  the  better. 
A  close  casque  of  the  old  fashion,  with  a  fixed  avantaille  —  and 
see  there  be  gusset  of  good  mail,  hooked  firmly  to  the  corslet 
rim,  and  upper  edge  of  the  brassards,  to  guard  the  oxter  from 
arrow-shot  or  thrust  of  some  sharp  weapon,  when  the  right 
arm  is  raised.  Dost  mark  me,  ha?  And  ye,  good  fellows,  go 
with  him  likewise  ;  fit  them,  I  pray  you,  both,  with  your  best 
harness  of  burnished  Flanders  iron,  complete  —  dost  under 
stand? —  complete  from  head  to  foot,  steelboot  and  taslet,  bras 
sard,  vant-brace,  and  corslet,  and  see  here  !  none  of  your  open 
morion  or  bacinets,  but  good  stout  cerveilleres,  with  beaver  and 
mailhood.  That  done,  I  will  entreat  you  to  commend  them  to 
a  leatherworker's,  where  they  may  get  them  each  a  cassock 
of  dressed  hide  to  wear  above  their  mail ;  white,  mark  you, 
Ermold,  and  laid  down  on  the  seams  with  lace,  and  see  ye 
that  the  suits  be  of  one  pattern,  that  ye  look  orderly  and  neat, 
not  loose,  irregular  companion.  Furnish  them,  likewise,  thou, 
Herr  Jacob,  with  double-handed  swords,  and  dudgeon  daggers 
of  a  hand's  breadth,  and  a  good  battle-axe  apiece  of  ten  pounds 
weight  or  better.  Now  hurry,  my  men,  hurry  !  for  by  the  Lord 
that  lives  the  day  is  waning.  Now,  Vandenkopf,"  he  added, 
turning  to  the  landlord,  "  go  in  and  speak  with  me,  for  I  must 


THE    DEPARTURE.  59 

needs  draw  a  bill  on  Master  Morillon  of  Bruges,  or  if  it  like 
your  money-changers,  better  on  the  intendant  of  my  estates  of 
Tankarville,  to  pay  for  these  same  steeds  and  harness !" 

This  would  have  been  at  that-  day,  in  any  other  state  of 
Europe,  a  task  of  no  small  difficulty,  but  even  at  an  earlier  date 
than  that  of  which  we  write,  the  intelligent  and  industrious 
Flemings  had  been  in  the  habit  of  using  something  analogous 
to  bills  of  exchange  ;  the  invention  of  which  is  variously  attrib 
uted  to  the  Jews,  the  merchants  of  the  low  country,  and  the 
traders  of  the  Italian  republics  ;  and  to  one  so  famous  as  Hugues 
de  Coucy,  there  would  have  been  no  difficulty  in  raising  even 
a  larger  sum  than  he  required  among  the  opulent  goldsmiths 
and  jewellers,  who  were  in  those  days  the  bankers  of  Brussels. 

The  sun  was  still  high  above  the  western  horizon,  although 
it  was  long  past  noon,  so  rapidly  had  De  Coucy's  men,  eager 
to  gain  the  good  opinion  of  a  lord  at  the  same  time  so  liberal, 
and,  if  report  spoke  true,  so  strict  in  the  maintenance  of  dis 
cipline,  got  through  the  task  allotted  to  them,  when  the  baron's 
party  issued  forth  by  a  different  gate  from  that  which  had 
admitted  him,  into  the  great  plain  beyond  the  city-walls. 
They  were  not,  perhaps,  in  all  respects  so  complete  a  train 
as  that  which  had  accompanied  the  baron  previous  to  his 
encounter  with  the  Red  Bastard,  and  his  confederates, 
but  they  afforded,  notwithstanding,  a  noble  spectacle  ;  for  the 
horses  were  picked  beasts,  and  the  new  men-at-arms  tall,  well- 
made  fellows,  and  good  riders,  bearing  themselves  erect  and 
proudly  in  their  saddles  beautifully  equipped,  and  managing 
their  own  chargers  with  ease  and  skill,  while  each  led  a  spare 
horse,  the  two  Arabs  before-mentioned,  lightly  equipped,  and 
loaded  with  spare  armor  and  a  few  staves  for  lances.  The 
young  esquire  —  for  to  that  honorable  station  by  dint  of  gal 
lantry,  bold  zeal,  and  approved  fidelity,  Ermold  de  Clermont 
was  now  fairly  inducted  —  wore  his  beaver  up  as  he  caracoled 


60  §IR    HUGUEi    DE    COUCY. 

gayly  behind  his  liege  lord,  his  whole  face  radiant,  and  his 
eyes  lightning  with  enthusiastic  pleasure ;  so  that  no  one 
could  doubt  for  a  moment  that  his  young  high  spirit  would 
effect  far  more  than  could  be  expected  from  his  slender  frame 
and  juvenile  appearance. 

They  had  not  ridden  far  before  the  knight  made  a  sign  to 
him ;  and  when  he  rode  up  to  him,  desired  him  to  relieve  the 
man-at-arms  called  Giles,  of  the  horse  he  was  leading,  and 
send  him  forward,  as  he  would  speak  with  him  for  a  few 
moments.  The  exchange  was  effected  in  a  minute,  and  with 
a  deep  obeisance  the  trooper  trotted  sharply  up  to  his  lord's 
side. 

"  So,  Giles,"  the  knight  began,  "  Master  Vandenkopf  tells 
me  thou  art  a  thorough  guide  for  all  this  Netherlandish  coun 
try.  Is  it  so,  good  fellow  ?" 

"  Nearly  so,  beau  sire,"  the  man  answered  ;  "  all  on  this 
French  frontier  I  do  know  foot  by  foot ;  and  on  the  northern  side 
there  are,  I  do  believe,  few  better  guides  than  I  up  to  the  Elbe 
at  least,  and  on  the  Rhine  as  far  as  to  Cologne,  so  please 
you." 

"  Well,  it  does  please  me  wondrous  well !  Now,  sir, 
where  lies  the  chateau  de  Verneuil  ?  How  strong  is  it,  and 
how  manned  ?  Nigh  to  what  town  or  hamlet,  and  what 
chance  of  mustering  men  about  it  ?" 

"  It  lies  some  ten  leagues  hence  northwesterly,  in  the  very 
thicket  of  the  forest,  not  very  far  from  Tirlemont  and  Hannut ; 
at  least  those  are  the  nearest  places  to  it.  There  be  a  few 
small  tenures  round  about  it,  and  a  little,  oh,  a  very  little  vil 
lage  at  the  hill-foot.  Then,  as  for  its  strength,  it  is  but 
one  square  keep,  with  a  few  out-buildings  in  a  court-yard,  sur 
rounded  by  a  IOWT  wall,  with  some  half-dozen  turrets  at  the 
angles.  The  present  seigneur  has,  indeed,  dug  a  new  moat, 
and  filled  it  from  a  neighboring  rivulet,  and  built  a  low  barba- 


THE    DESTINATION.  61 

can  over  against  the  gate — but  the  Lord  love  you!  it  has  no 
strength  at  all.  Why,  twenty  men  might  carry  it,  and  as  for 
help,  there  is  no  help  to  be  got  nigher  than  Hannut,  and  that 
must  be  four  leagues.  I  have  heard,  too,  that  the  sieur  de 
Floris —  he  is  the  chatelain,  you  know,  sir — has  ridden 
thence  some  months  ago  to  join  the  English  queen  at  Mire- 
poix,  where  she  is  waiting,  as  they  say,  her  bad  son,  John's 
arrival.  I  do  believe  there  are  but  scant  ten  spears  in  the 
chateau,  and  no  better  captain  than  the  young  lady !" 

"  And  they  will  be  attacked  at  daybreak,  to-morrow,  by  forty 
routiers  at  least,  under  that  ruffian,  Talebard  !" 

"  Ha  !  Talebardin,"  said  the  man,  "  and  the  Red  Bastard,  I 
will  warrant  it,  and  like  enough  the  gray  priest,  too !  Well,  beau 
seigneur,  however  you  may  know  it,  of  this  be  sure,  if  they  do 
attack  the  chateau,  then  they  will  carry  it,  most  surely." 

"  No,  no !  good  fellow  !  the  Red  Bastard  will  couch  lance 
no  more,  nor  the  gray  brother  either,  nor  shall  they  carry  the 
chateau  so  readily." 

The  trooper  looked  bewildered  for  a  few  seconds,  as  if  he 
were  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  De  Coucy's  meaning ;  and  then 
taking  courage,  asked,  "  How,  my  lord  ? — how  shall  they  no 
more  couch  lance  when  it  is  their  trade  alway  ?" 

"  Because  my  spear-point  went  in  at  his  gorget-joint,  and 
came  out  through  his  back-piece,  yesternoon — the  Red  Bas 
tard's  I  would  say!  —  and  as  for  the  gray  brother,  my  good 
companion  and  true  friend  —  a  saint  in  heaven  now  —  Mathieu 
de  Montmesnil  slew  him  in  the  same  hour  beside  the  headless 
cross." 

"  Pardieu !"  exclaimed  the  soldier,  "  but  this  shall  be  glad 
news  for  Brussels.  They  have  harassed  its  merchants  sorely 
these  past  years  ;  and  now,  seigneur — " 

"  And  now,"  returned  Hugues,  "  thou  must  guide  me,  as 
straight  as  thou  canst  ride,  to  the  chateau  of  Verneuil.  I  vow 


62  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

to  Heaven  and  good  St.  Paul,  if  we  get  thither  ere  they  reach 
the  castle,  they  shall  not  win  it  scatheless.  Is  she  so  young, 
this  lady  chatelaine — is  she  so  young,  Giles  Ivernois  ?" 

"  Scarce  eighteen  years,  beau  sire,  I've  heard  them  tell ! 
She  was  but  wed  last  Shrovetide.  The  sieur  de  Floris 
brought  her  home  from  some  place  in  France  or  Languedoc. 
Her  name,  methinks,  was  De  Navailles  —  Gabrielle  de  Na- 
vailles !" 

"  Ha !  Tete  de  Dieu  !  Gabrielle  de  Navailles  !"  exclaimed 
the  knight,  a  deep  red  flush  crossing  his  brow,  and  passing 
instantly  away,  so  as  to  leave  him  paler  than  before.  "  Ha!  is 
it  so  ?  So  much  the  more  need  then  of  speed  to  rescue  her,"  he 
added,  muttering  to  himself  in  a  low  voice.  "  Well,  guide  me 
thither  straightway,  and  with  all  warrantable  haste  to  boot. 
I  would  be  there  by  midnight." 

"  And  it  is  now  four  afternoon,  I  trow,"  replied  the  trooper, 
gazing  toward  the  sun,  the  lower  limb  of  which  was  already 
sinking  into  the  topmost  boughs  of  the  tall  forest-trees.  "  We 
must  ride  hard,  then,  beau  sire  ;  but  we'll  be  there  ere  midnight, 
my  head  on't.  I  fain  would  counter  blows  with  Talebard.  I 
knew  him  long  since  when  he  was  an  honest  man  and  a  brave 
soldier,  as  now  he  is  a  foul  thief  and  accursed  murderer.  I 
fain  would  counter  blows  with  him.  He  is  a  stout  lance,  and 
a  valorous  —  a  right  good  man-at-arms.  Yet  it  should  go  hard 
with  me  but  I  would  match  him.  There  were  great  los  to  be 
won  and  glory,  and  no  small  guerdon  either.  Why,  his  head 
now  is  worth  forty  pounds  of  silver  well  weighed  out ;  and 
under  such  a  leader  as  monseigneur,  I  fear  not  we  could  win 
it.  Well !  we  will  reach  Verneuil  ere  midnight,  or  I'll  die 
for't." 


GILES    IVERNOIS.  63 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE    CHATELAINE. 


THE  knight's  new  follower  failed  not  to-  make  his  promise 
good,  knowing,  as  it  was  evident  he  did,  even  before  the  sun 
set,  every  foot  of  the  country  through  which  their  route  lay  to 
the   chateau  de  Verneuil ;  but  when  the   daylight  had  quite 
faded  from  the  face  of  the  world,  and  the  last  faint  reflection 
of  the  vanished  rays  had  ceased  to  tinge  the   fleecy  night- 
clouds,  it  became  more   and  more  apparent  how  perfectly  he 
was  acquainted  with  every  turn  and  winding  of  the   devious 
roads  which  traversed  those  wild  tracts  of  moor,  morass,  and 
forest ;  for  he  never  paused  nor  doubted  at  the  carrefours,  or 
intersections  of  some  six  or  eight  long  avenues,  cut  through 
the  wide  expanse  of  underwood,  with  here  and  there  a  giant 
tree  which  for  the  most  part  covered  that  part  of  the  country, 
but  led  the  way  at  a  sharp  steady  trot,  wheeling  his  horse  to 
this  hand  or  to  that  with  the   decided  confidence  of  a  man 
acquainted  thoroughly  with  his  direction,  and  with  the  nature 
of  the  ground.     More  than  one  large  strong  brook  and  several 
rivulets  crossed  their  path,  offering  in  one   or  two  cases  con 
siderable   obstacles   to   their  proceeding;  but   Giles   Ivernois 
never  hesitated  even  for  a  moment,  but  either  leaped  them 
boldly,  or  plunged  into  their  well-known  fords  undaunted.     At 
about  nine  o'clock  of  the  evening  they  halted  at  a  small  way 
side  tavern,  embosomed  in  the  deep  woodlands,  and  built  as  it 
would  seem  for  the  convenience  of  belated  hunters,  in  honor 
of  whom  it  rejoiced  in  the  name  and  effigy  of  » the  Bald-faced 
Stag."     This   solitary  house,  or  hovel  rather  — for  although 


SIR    HUOUES    DE    COUCY. 

neat  and  even  picturesque  in  appearance,  it  was  in  size  but  a 
very  cottage,  the  last  on  this  side  the  hamlet  of  Verneuil,  as 
the  man-at-arms  informed  his  lord  — was  situated  something 
more  than  seven  leagues  from  Brussels,  and  not  above  eight 
miles  at  farthest  from  the  small  castle  toward  which  they  were 
speeding. 

"  The  road  is  good  henceforward,  beau  sire,"  replied  the 
trooper,  in  answer  to  a  question  from  the  baron;  "better  than 
any  we  have  seen  yet  this  side  Brussels.  This  country  here- 
about  lies  over  limestone,  and  for  the  most  part  it  is  under 
tillage,  our  horses  fresh  and  fed,  we  may  right  easily  be  there 
within  the  hour." 

"  Dismount,  then,  all,"  cried  Hugues,  «  for  we  shall  need 
each  spark  of  fire  that  we  can  keep  alight  in  their  keen  spirits. 
Ermold,  see  that  ye  get  a  stoup  or  two  of  red  wine,  and  bathe 
their  pastern  joints  and  fetlocks.  Have  we  some  dozen  slices 
of  raw  beef,  or  venison  better  — if  there  be  any  in  the  house- 
cut  thin,  and  wrap  in  each  slice  of  meat  one  of  the  cordial 
balls  of  choice  medicaments,  I  bade  you  bring  from  Tankar- 
ville.  Give  one  to  every  destrier;  see  them  rubbed  clean  and 
warm  ;  then  feed  them  with  bread  steeped  in  red  wine,  and 
they  shall  be  in  spirits  for  the  road,  or  e'er  an  hour  be  flown 
and  livelier,  I  warrant  them,  than  when  we  rode  forth  from  the' 
city-gates." 

The  young  esquire  responded  by  a  bow  only  ;  but  Giles 
Ivernois,  the  elder  man-at-arms,  made  answer,  relying  on  his 
skill  in  horse-flesh,  «  Under  your  favor,  my  good  lord,  a  clove 
f  garlic,  pounded  with  a  handful  of  ginger,  were  added  well 
the  red  wine.     I  would,  though,  we  had  here  some  of  that 
English  drink  they  call  brown  beer  or  ale  ;  bread  steeped  in 
that  is  the  most  hearty  food   and  sovereign'st  thing  for  jaded 
steeds  I   ever  saw  or  heard  of.     They  brew  it  out  of  barley 
beau  sire  !" 


A    BRIEF    HALT.  65 

"  Ha !  and  what  knowest  thou,  good  fellow,  of  England  or  of 
English  liquors  ?"  asked  the  knight,  laughing  at  the  trooper's 
freedom. 

"  So,  please  you,  I  heard  tell  of  it  the  first  from  an  old 
equerry  who  rode  erewhile  with  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart. 
I  met  with  him  in  Guienne,  many  a  winter  since.  He  called 
himself  a  Yorkshireman,  though  where  Yorkshire  lies  I  know 
not,  were  I  to  hang  for  it,  but  I  do  know  he  was  the  cunning- 
est  and  skilfulest  with  horses  of  any  man  I  ever  did  consort 
with.  He  had  store  of  wise  saws,  and  wondrous  remedies, 
and  some  of  them  I  have  remembered  ever  since,  this  being  one 
of  them.  I  proved  it  once  in  the  Black  forest,  when  I  was 
chased  three  days  with  thirty  lances  by  the  bad  lord  of  Hohen- 
Zollern.  They  brew  beer  there  right  potent,  beau  sire  —  and 
Heaven  be  blessed  for  it  and  the  three  holy  kings  of  Cologne  ! 
I  laid  it  to  the  ale,  and  4he  old  Yorkshire  equerry,  that  I  es 
caped  them  —  for  I  fed  my  good  beast  at  every  halting-place 
with  rye-bread  soaked  in  that  black  beer,  and  may  I  never 
drain  a  flagon  any  more  !  if  he  became  not  so  fond  of  it,  that 
he  would  drink  a  stoup  oop-seyes,  like  a  stanch  toper !" 

"I  doubt  it  not  —  I  doubt  it  not  at  all,"  replied  De  Coucy ; 
"  but  as  we  shall  find  neither  English  ale,  nor  yet  black  Ger 
man  beer  here  in  the  forest,  we  must  make  red  wine  do  for  it; 
and  hark  ye,  Giles  and  Francon,  though  the  beer  suit  the 
horses  better,  I  doubt  not  but  the  men  will  find  the  grape-juice 
full  as  pleasant." 

"  Never  fear,  good  my  lord,"  returned  the  soldier,  "  never 
fear,  we  will  do  all  your  biddings  to  the  utmost,  and  be  in  time 
to  garrison  the  chateau,  and  save  the  bright  young  lady,  and 
beat  the  villain  routiers  !"  and  with  the  words  he  followed  his 
companions  to  the  stable,  whither  they  had  already  led  the 
horses,  while  Hugues,  who,  for  the  last  three  days  had  tasted 
little  rest,  entered  the  inn  to  seek  such  brief  refreshment  as 


66  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

mine  host  of  the  Bald-faced  Stag  might  offer.  Short,  however, 
was  the  period  which  he  devoted  to  repose  ;  for  ere  an  hour 
had  passed,  he  and  his  men  were  in  their  saddles  and  in  rapid 
motion  with  their  good  horses,  not  recruited  only,  but  fuller,  as 
the  knight  had  augured,  of  spirit  and  high  fire  than  when  they 
had  started  on  their  journey  some  six  hours  before,  during 
which  time  they  had  carried  each  a  tall  and  powerful  cavalier 
sheathed  in  so  ponderous  armor,  that  he  weighed  thirty  stone 
at  the  least  reckoning. 

The  moon  had  risen,  too,  during  their  halt,  and  the  roads 
proving,  as  Giles  had  predicted,  firm  and  in  good  condition, 
they  rattled  on  at  a  brisk  pace  keeping  their  steeds,  however, 
hard  in  hand  with  all  their  harness  jingling  merrily,  and  their 
bright  weapons  flashing  like  diamonds  in  the  misty  moonlight. 
A  quarter  of  an  hour  brought  them  into  the  open  country, 
widely  extended  in  rich  plains,  d^ted  with  clusters  of  lofty 
forest-trees,  and  bordered  by  soft,  sloping  hills,  feathered  with 
hanging  woods  and  many  a  waving  coppice.  No  villages 
were  visible,  however,  in  the  glimmering  light,  nor  did  the 
summit  of  a  single  steeple  glitter  out  from  the  tufted  tree-tops. 
A  few  poor  huts,  dwellings  of  the  degraded,  wretched  serfs, 
who  tilled  —  hereditary  bondsmen  —  the  vast  demesnes  of  their 
proud  feudal  lords,  tending  rich  herds,  the  flesh  of  which  was 
never  to  be  tasted  by  their  famished  children,  and  pressing  the 
rich  grapes  never  to  glad  their  hearts  with  their  joy-giving 
vintage  —  a  few  poor  huts  they  passed,  surrounded  with  styes 
in  long  ranges  ;  or,  in  some  instances,  with  large  folds  for  the 
swine  or  sheep,  which  their  inhabitants  were  forced  to  guard 
at  peril  of  their  lives  ;  but  not  another  sign  of  human  life 
did  they  encounter.  Suddenly,  after  they  had  ridden  between 
six  or  seven  miles,  and  were  just  entering  again  a  tract  of 
forest  land,  the  deep  loud  clang  of  a  heavy  bell  came  booming 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  VERNEUIL.  67 

on  the  night-wind  pealing  from  some  unseen  clock-tower  the 
last  hour  before  midnight. 

"  There  !  there  !  beau  sire,  we  are  in  time  ;  that  is  the  ban 
cloche  of  the  chateau ;  when  we  shall  pass  the  second  turn, 
we  shall  be  in  the  hamlet !" 

"  Ha !"  cried  the  baron,  "  on,  then,  on !  we  have  no  time  to 
lose,  for  all  it  is  not  midnight." 

The  road  swept  down  a  little  sandy  pitch,  at  the  foot  of 
which  ran  a  clear  brawling  trout-stream,  wheeled  short  to  the 
left  hand,  and  having  crossed  the  stream  by  a  steep,  one-arched 
bridge  of  brick,  scaled  the  ascent  on  the  opposite  side,  and 
winding  abruptly  to  the  right,  the  dark  ever-green  pine-trees, 
which  clothed  the  banks  of  the  gully  scattering  off  diversely, 
burst  out  into  the  little  plain  whereon  were  clustered  round  a 
small  rustic  chapel,  some  twenty  tidy-looking  cottages  with 
cultivated  stripes  of  garden-ground  before  the  doors,  and  sev 
eral  orchards  interspersed  with  apple-trees,  and  a  few  vines 
trained  upon  the  latticed  screens,  the  whole  presenting  a  calm 
and  gentle  picture  of  peaceful  and  domestic  comfort.  Scarcely 
a  bow-shot  beyond  these,  its  base  and  outer  wall  concealed 
from  the  road  by  the  close  foliage  of  the  still  verdant  orchards, 
rose  the  gray  weather-beaten  tower  of  the  keep,  a  tall  square 
building  with  a  steep,  flagged  roof  and  projecting  battlements, 
having  a  circular  bartizan  at  every  angle,  with  a  high  flag 
staff  rising  from  the  ridge  of  the  main  dongeon.  A  loud  vocif 
erous  barking  was  set  up  by  a  dozen  of  deep-mouthed  mas 
tiffs,  as  the  little  band  of  De  Coucy  rode  clanging  and  clatter 
ing  round  the  hamlet,  and  many  a  male  and  female  head  was 
thrust  out  of  the  latticed  casements  to  note  the  character  of 
the  intruders,  and  was  as  speedily  withdrawn,  reassured  by  the 
appearance  of  the  baron  clad  in  his  splendid  surcoat.  Within 
five  minutes  they  had  cleared  the  village  and  its  scattered 
shrubbery,  and  stood  before  the  barbacan  of  the  chateau  in  full 


68  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COTJCY. 

view  of  its  slight  defences.  It  was,  indeed,  a  place  of  but 
little  strength,  as  Giles  Ivernois  had  stated,  yet  the  knight 
readily  perceived  that  his  new  man-at-arms  had  somewhat 
underrated  its  capabilities  of  defence  ;  for  the  moat  was  not 
only  broad  but  very  deep  hewn  out  of  the  solid  limestone  rock 
which  lay  beneath  the  soil  at  a  few  inches'  depth,  and  the  ex 
ternal  wall,  though  not  high,  was  very  strong,  and  built  so 
close  upon  the  verge  of  the  fosse,  that  it  was  quite  impossible 
to  effect  a  lodgment  at  its  base.  The  corps-de-logis  was, 
moreover,  evidently  framed  with  a  view  to  stout  defence,  being 
built  in  a  hollow  square  with  all  the  windows  looking  inward, 
crenelled  and  looped  on  the  exterior  for  shot  of  arbalast  and 
long-bow  with  the  tall  dongeon-keep  in  the  centre  of  the 
square,  a  citadel  and  last  stronghold,  commanding  all  the  out 
works.  So  absolute,  it  would  seem,  was  the  security  of  the 
inmates  that  no  sentinel  kept  watch  upon  the  barbacan,  no 
warder  on  the  massy  more ;  nor  that  alone  !  for  all  the  clanging 
sounds  of  the  plate-armor,  and  the  thick  trampling  of  the  des 
triers,  and  all  the  baying  of  the  watch-dogs  had  failed  to  rouse 
one  sleeper  of  the  castle's  guard. 

After  he  had  sat,  something  longer  than  a  minute,  silently 
overlooking  the  defences  of  the  place,  the  knight  of  Tankar- 
ville  lifted  his  bugle  to  his  lips  and  wound  a  long,  keen  chal 
lenge,  which,  to  ears  practised  in  the  science  of  mots  and  en- 
seangies  of  ancient  houses,  would  have  conveyed  the  informa 
tion  that  the  head  of  the  bold  De  Coucys  demanded  entrance 
at  the  gates.  One,  twice,  however — nay,  three  times  was 
that  keen  call  repeated,  ere  it  found  any  ears  to  mark  it ;  and 
when  at  length  the  tardy  warder  did  deign  arouse  him  from 
his  slumbers,  he  also  blew  a  challenge,  so  heedless  was  he  or 
so  ignorant  of  his  accustomed  duties.  Before,  however,  the 
shrill  flourish  of  his  trumpets  had  ceased  to  wake  the  slumber 
ing  echoes,  De  Coucy  shouted  loudly,  "  Ho  !  warder,  up  port- 


THE    CHATELAIXE.  69 

cullis  !  Unbar  your  gates,  arid  down  with  your  pont  levis ! 
Open  to  a  good  friend  and  loyal.  'Tis  I  —  I,  Hugues  of  Tan- 
karville." 

"  I  dare  not,  for  my  life,  beau  sire  —  nor  could  I,  if  I  dared 
—  the  keys  are  with  the  chatelaine  !" 

"  Then  wake  her,  sirrah,  and  that  speedtly ;  tell  her  the 
knight  of  Tankarville  beseeches  of  her  courtesy  that  she  will 
presently  admit  him,  with  but  three  comrades,  for  reasons  he 
will  show  hereafter !" 

"'Twere  of  no  use,  beau  sire,"  returned  the  warder;  "the 
sieur  de  Floris  is  abroad,  and  our  fair  ladye  'bideth  since  in 
strict  seclusion." 

"  Dally  not,  slave,  with  me,"  shouted  De  Coucy,  shaking  his 
fist  angrily  at  the  man,  who  now  showed  himself  half  armed 
upon  the  esplanade  above  the  barbacan  ;  "  dally  not,  slave, 
with  me,  but  do  my  bidding !  else,  by  the  Lord  that  liveth  !  I 
will  break  in  perforce,  and  hang  thee  from  the  pinnacle  to 
feed  the  ravens  of  Verneuil." 

What  reply  would  have  come  from  the  warder  can  not  be 
known,  for  ere  he  could  reply  the  blaze  of  several  torches 
were  visible  upon  the  ramparts,  and  in  a  few  moments  Hugues 
might  clearly  see  upon  the  gate-house  over  against  the  bar 
bacan  a  female  figure,  wrapped  in  a  hooded  mantle  furred 
deeply  with  lich  ermine,  with  several  armed  attendants,  and 
an  old  gray-haired  seneschal  beside  her. 

Low  bowed  Hugues  de  Coucy  till  the  plumes  of  his  waving 
crest  were  mingled  in  strange  contrast  with  the  long,  thin 
mane  of  his  coal-black  charger ;  and  when  he  raised  himself 
from  that  deep  obeisance,  he  spoke  with  a  voice,  rich  and  clear 
and  manly,  yet  soft  the  while  and  soothing  as  the  tones  of  the 
southern  lute. 

"I  pray  you,"  he  said,  "beautiful  and  gentle  ladye,  I  pray 
you  of  your  courtesy  and  charity,  open  your  gates  to  one,  who, 


70  SIR    HUGUES    DK    COUCT. 

for  so  gentle  deed,  will  ever  rest  your  debtor — I,  Hugues, 
baron  and  count  of  Tankarville." 

"  Sorry,  am  I,  sir  knight,"  replied  the  lady  ;  "  sorry  am  I, 
and  very  loathe  to  answer,  but  my  good  lord  of  Floris  hath 
ridden  these  four  months  past  abroad,  and  I  have  bound  me 
by  a  vow  that  no  strange  knight,  nor  man-at-arms,  nor  even 
priest  nor  friar,  shall  tarry  after  sunset  beneath  my  castle-roof 
till  he  return  from  peril.  Pardon  me,  therefore,  gentle  knight, 
pardon  me  in  that  I  seem  discourteous,  and  deem,  I  pray  you, 
my  vow  churlish,  arid  not  me  !" 

"  Lady,"  replied  the  Coucy,  "  lady,  I  do  beseech  you 
ope  to  me,  and  by  my  faith,  my  knighthood,  and  mine  honor ! 
thou  shalt  in  naught  infringe  the  strictness  of  thine  honorable 
vow.  I  ask  not  to  set  foot  within  thine  hall  —  not  to  break 
bread,  or  drain  cup  at  thy  board  —  I  ask  but  leave  to  pass  your 
outer  gates,  to  plant  my  pennon  on  your  outer  wall,  to  aid  with 
my  good  sword  and  such  poor  skill  as  I  may  boast,  in  the  de 
fence  of  this  your  castle  against  the  villain  routiers  of  that 
accursed  ruffian,  Talebardin,  who  will  be  at  your  gates  with 
sixty  spears  long  before  daybreak.  God  and  the  Virgin  aid 
us  and  blest  St.  Paul  of  Tankarville,  we  will  beat  off  the  dogs 
who  else  will  be  too  strong  for  ye,  and  the  adventure  done,  we 
will  ride  forth  again  asking  no  guerdon,  e'en  of  thanks  —  no 
benison,  nor  reward,  save  of  our  own  good  thoughts.  Refuse 
me  this  poor  boon,  and,  lady,  hear  me  swear,  I,  Hugues  de 
Tankarville,  baron  of  Flanders,  count  of  France,  knight  of 
the  empire  —  swear  by  my  ladye-love,  and  by  my  patron-saint, 
and  by  the  bones  and  soul  of  my  dead  father,  that,  if  I  may 
not  on  this  field  preserve  your  life  and  honor,  I  will  at  least 
die  for  them  ;  that  if  I  may  not  win  for  Tankarville  and  Ver- 
neuil,  I  will  at  least  fall  without  stain,  and  draw  my  last  breath 
under  shield  nobly,  and  in  a  noble  cause,  fearless  of  aught  on 
earth  and  confident  of  heaven  !'' 


ENTRANCE    TO    THE    CASTLE.  71 

"  Good  knight !  good  knight !"  exclaimed  the  lady,  "  good 
knight  and  noble  if  ever  one  was  yet !  Ride  in  !  ride  in  !  and 
welcome.  I  do  repose  me  on  your  honor — I  do  confide  me 
to  your  valor — I  do  trust  fearlessly  to  your  strong  arm;  —  for 
his  arm  must  of  need  be  strong  whose  spirit  is  so  high  and 
holy.  Let  fall  the  gates  there,  knaves  —  lower  the  bride  — 
raise  the  portcullis  grate  !  Room  for  the  count  of  Tankar- 
ville  !"  and  with  the  words  she  left  her  stand  upon  the  ram 
parts,  and  came  down  hastily  to  meet  the  renowned  and  mighty 
champion  whose  fame  was  rife  through  all  the  bounds  of  Chris 
tendom. 

Meantime,  the  heavy  grate  of  the  barbacan  was  raised,  and 
the  wide  leaves  of  the  gate  flung  open,  and  Hugues  rode  in 
bowing  his  lofty  crest  beneath  the  pointed  arch,  followed  by 
his  stout  men-at-arms  and  his  young  spirited  esquire.  The 
moment  he  had  entered  the  dark  vault,  the  stately  warrior 
leaped  to  the  ground,  and  turning  short  to  one  of  the  men  who 
had  admitted  him,  and  who  had  of  course  heard  all  the  pre 
vious  parley,  "  We  have  no  time  at  all  to  lose,"  he  said,  "good 
fellow ;  so  run  down  thou  and  summon  all  the  serfs  of  the 
hamlets,  and  all  the  freemen  —  if  there  be  any  in  the  place  — 
bound  to  man-service  ;  bid  them  make  haste  as  they  would 
live  and  prosper,  for  Talebardin  and  his  routiers  will  be  upon 
them  ere  an  hour,  and  ye  have  room  enough  within,  I  trow. 
Get  all  the  women  in  and  children ;  these  dogs  spare  neither 
age  nor  sex  !  Haste  thee,  good  fellow,  for  I  will  bear  thee 
out  with  thy  good  lady.  Ermold,  take  thou  my  rein.  Dis 
mount  not,  Ivernois,  nor  thou  good  Francon,  I  shall  have  need 
of  ye  anon,  for  we  will  charge  on  their  advance  with  a  good 
sally  !  So  !  so  !  Here  comes  the  chatelaine  !"  and,  as  he 
spoke  the  words,  he  lowered  the  beaver  of  his  plumed  helmet, 
but  keeping  the  avantaille  still  lowered,  so  that  although  his 
mouth  and  all  the  lower  part  of  his  countenance  was  uncov- 


72  SIR    HUOUES    DE    COUCT. 

ered,  his  eyes  and  brow  were  still  concealed,  so  that  a  person 
who  knew  him  only  by  sight,  without  being  acquainted  with 
his  style  or  title,  would  have  had  some  difficulty  in  recogni 
sing  him,  and  advanced  to  meet  the  lady  chatelaine,  who  was 
now  standing  in  the  arched  gateway  on  the  inner  side  of  the 
moat,  surrounded  by  some  six  or  eight  men-at-arms,  with  the 
old  seneschal  beforementioned,  and  a  single  handmaid  at  her 
elbow.  She  was  a  delicate  and  slender  girl,  with  nothing  ma 
tronly  either  of  air  or  figure,  not  certainly  above  eighteen,  and 
of  rare  beauty,  as  might  easily  be  seen  ;  for  her  furred  hood 
had  fallen  back,  and  left  the  whole  of  her  fair  face  and  all  her 
classically-moulded  head  exposed  to  the  full  glare  of  the 
torches,  which  lent  a  warmer  tinge  than  common  to  those  pale, 
eloquent  features.  Hers  was  the  beauty  which,  though  not  so 
generally  appreciated,  must  be  pronounced  far  higher  in  the 
scale  of  loveliness  than  mere  voluptuous  charms.  Beauty  it 
was,  indeed,  of  the  first  intellectual  order  ;  the  high  pale  fore 
head  from  which  the  dark,  brown  curls  fell  off  in  shadowy 
masses  ;  the  slight  expressive  curve  of  the  black  eyebrows  ; 
the  long-cut  eye  of  deep,  clear  gray,  radiant  and  pure  as  a 
transparent  spring,  yet  calm  and  self-restrained  ;  the  classic, 
almost  stern  profile,  contrasted  with  the  sweet  arch  of  the  rosy 
lips;  the  bright,  translucent  paleness  of  the  skin  —  all!  all 
were  perfect  —  perfect  in  their  unsensual,  tranquil  beauty, 
while  the  expression  of  the  whole  was  full  of  eloquence,  of 
mind,  of  music.  She  was  a  being  whom,  perhaps,  ninety-nine 
men  out  of  every  hundred  would  have  passed  by  unheeded,  as 
cold  and  passionless,  as  a  fair  statue  rich  in  proportions,  rare 
in  grace,  but  senseless  and  inanimate,  whom  he,  the  hundredth, 
would  not  have  loved,  but  adored,  idolized !  as  a  thing  almost 
too  pure,  too  spiritual,  for  any  earthly  worship.  And  so  she 
had  been  worshipped !  and  had  returned  that  worship  with  the 
young,  trusting,  innocent,  devoted  love  of  a  free  virgin  heart ! 


AN    ILL-MATCHED    PAIR.  73 

She  had  been  wooed  and  won,  and  plighted,  and  then  ill  days 
and  evil  tongues  had  come  between,  and  the  frail  thread 
of  true  love  had  been  broken — broken,  alas!  to  reunite  no 
more 

Two  years  had  intervened,  and  they  who  had  parted  then 
heart-broken  lovers  met  for  the  first  time  now.  She,  the  sad, 
spirit-broken  bride  of  an  ill-matched  and  aged  spouse.  He, 
the  young,  unknown  knight  of  those  past  days,  revealed  as  by 
enchantment,  noble,  and  chief,  and  champion.  It  boots  not  to 
search  back  into  their  early  fortunes  ;  it  now  were  profitless 
alike  and  tedious.  Enough  they  stood  together.  He  knew 
her  as  of  old,  and  worshipped  as  he  did  then,  and  pitied  as  he 
then  did  not.  For  he  well  knew  the  cruel  arts  by  which  her 
late  consent  had  been  wrung  from  her  to  that  most  ill-assorted 
wedlock.  He  knew  her  spirit  true  to  himself  alone,  when  all 
beside  was  given  to  another.  Yet  did  he  know  her  pure  and 
innocent  of  soul  as  in  her  earliest  maidenhood  —  a  too  true 
wife  to  a  passionless  and  aged  lord.  Therefore,  concealed  he 
stood  before  her,  and  quelled  his  passions  like  a  hero  as  he 
was,  resolved  to  add  no  sorrow  to  her  sufferings  by  revelation 
of  the  identity,  all  unsuspected  and  undreamed,  of  her  young 
nameless  wooer  with  the  renowned  and  far-famed  baron  who 
had  thus  ridden  to  her  rescue.  And  she  received  him  as  a 
stranger ;  yet  as  a  stranger  known  so  well  by  the  loud  bruit 
of  his  great  deeds,  that  he  was  scarce  less  than  an  intimate, 
even  before  he  had  approved  himself  a  friend  by  this  his  gal 
lant  aid.  She  prayed  him  raise  his  avantaille,  and  enter  her 
courtyard,  and  begged  him  once  more  to  excuse  her  vow, 
which  must  prohibit  his  admission  to  the  hall.  "  Meanwhile," 
she  added,  "  my  vassals  are  even  now  preparing  with  earnest 
speed  such  a  pavilion  as  may  suffice  to  shield  a  champion  so 
famed  for  hardihood  of  mood  as  the  great  Hugues  de  Tankar- 
ville,  and  there,  good  knight  and  gentle,  there  may  I  tender  you 


74  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCi". 

the  kiss  of  honorable  welcome,  the  rights  of  courteous  hos 
pitality  !" 

"  I,  too,  dear  lady,"  answered  the  Coucy,  "  I,  too,  must 
plead  a  vow,  and  pray  your  pardon  also  for  the  semblance  of 
discourtesy.  When  first  I  learned  by  chance  the  purpose  of 
this  dog  banditti,  I  registered  an  oath  in  heaven  never  to  raise 
my  vizor,  nor  to  unbelt  my  weapon  from  my  side,  until  the 
slaves  be  scattered  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven,  and  you,  dear 
ladye  of  Verneuil,  be  scathless,  even  from  fear.  For  the  rest, 
I  beseech  you  waste  no  time  in  rearing  gay  pavilions,  but  let 
each  man-at-arms,  and  groom,  and  varlet  of  your  household  do 
on  his  harness  for  defence.  Let  them  fetch  arbalasts  arid 
quarrels,  long  bows,  and  sheaves  of  arrows  to  the  wall,  and  let 
them  bend  that  great  mangonel  I  see  upon  the  ballium,  and 
suit  it  with  a  befitting  stone.  Your  seneschal,  if  you  permit 
me  to  take  the  ordering  of  the  day,  should  take  post  in  the 
keep,  and  when  the  villains  show  front  clear  of  the  forest,  ring 
the  ban  cloche  in  one  continuous  peal,  and  ply  them  from  the 
battlements  with  hail  of  flight-shot,  arrow,  and  bolt,  and  bullet. 
There  must  you  be  too,  lady,  with  every  woman  of  your 
household,  and  such  serfs  of  the  hamlet  as  you  may  best  rely 
on  —  nay,  I  insist  on?t,  and  will  lead  you  thither."  And,  with 
the  words,  he  led  the  chatelaine  to  the  door  of  the  keep ;  and 
as  the  villagers  came  in,  he  picked  a  dozen  of  the  stoutest 
vassals,  and  placing  them  under  the  guidance  of  the  seneschal, 
commanded  him,  as  he  regarded  his  young  lady's  life  and 
honor,  to  bar  the  gate  of  the  dongeon  on  the  inner  side,  and 
open  it  no  more,  save  at  his  bidding,  or  till  the  routiers  should 
be  driven  from  the  walls  and  utterly  cut  down.  This  done  at 
length,  for  Gabrielle,  convinced  after  much  instance,  ceased  to 
remonstrate,  Hugues  took  command  of  all  the  outworks,  and, 
having  placed  his  little  band  —  little,  indeed!  since  he  found 
in  the  place  only  six  men-at-arms  and  five  stout  serving-men, 


THE  APPROACHING  ROUTIERS.  75 

to  whom  were  added  eight  or  ten  half-armed  vassals  from  the 
village,  on  all  the  points  of  vantage  —  he  joined  his  own  men 
in  the  barbacan,  resolved  to  charge  once  with  the  lance  before 
he  should  be  shut  up  within  walls  of  stone,  and  sat  there  mo 
tionless  on  his  tall  war-horse,  until  the  stars  paled  in  the  azure 
heavens,  awaiting  the  approach  of  these  fell  desperadoes. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    SERF. 

THE  morning  was  already  beginning  to  dawn  palely,  at  least 
a  few  faint  streaks  of  light  were  visible  from  the  summit  of  the 
watch-tower,  far  on  the  verge  of  the  eastern  sky,  when  a  dull 
rustling  sound  made  itself  plainly  heard  above  the  rippling  mur 
mur  of  the  trout  stream  in  the  valley,  and  the  sough  of  the 
west  wind  in  the  evergreen  branches  of  the  pine  wood.  None 
but  a  practised  ear  could  have  distinguished  then,  the  charac 
ter  of  that  far  sound,  but  scarcely  had  it  been  audible  a  second 
before  Sir  Hugues  de  Coucy  turning  half  round,  toward  Ermold, 
in  his  steel  saddle,  said  in  a  clear,  strong  whisper  ;  "  Lo  !  they 
come  now  ;  lower  your  vizors  all,  and  follow  me,  silently  though 
and  slowly  !"  and  with  the  words,  he  drew  down  his  own  avan- 
taille  and  clasped  it  firmly  to  the  beaver  ;  then,  gathering  his  reins 
up  with  the  left,  and  lowering  the  point  of  his  long  lance  that  it 
should  not  strike  the  groinings  of  the  barbacan,  he  rode  forth 
cautiously,  accompanied  by  his  young  squire,  and  the  two  men- 
at-arms  ;  before  he  left  the  arch,  however,  he  called  to  the  war 
der  bidding  him  see  the  chains  of  the  portcullis  clear,  and  have 
his  yeomen  ready  to  make  fast  the  gates  at  once.  "  Be  steady 
now,"  he  said,  "  and  forget  not  that  deliberate  valor  is  worth 


76  SIR   HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

ten  times  as  much  as  headlong  rashness.  Break  but  your 
lances  fairly  with  these  thieves,  and  draw  off  instantly,  leaving 
me  last.  Here  they  come,  fifty  horse  at  least,  if  I  may  judge 
by  the  clash  and  clang ;  they  will  be  here  anon.  Now  do 
your  devoir !" 

While  speaking,  he  had  drawn  up  his  little  band  in  line, 
having  Giles  Ivernois  on  his  right  hand,  and  Ermold  in  the 
centre,  the  other  Flemish  trooper  holding  the  extreme  left,  close 
to  the  high  fence  of  an  orchard.  The  road  here  made  a  little 
sweep,  of  something  better  than  a  hundred  yards,  skirting  the 
verge  of  the  moat  and  the  castle  wall  which  with  its  arbalasts 
and  mangonels  commanded  the  whole  traverse.  It  was,  more 
over,  very  narrow,  ascending  in  a  gentle  slope  up  to  the  outer 
gate,  giving  the  knight  and  his  companions  the  ground  of  van 
tage  for  a  charge  on  the  assailants. 

Scarce  had  the  knight  of  Tankarville  completed  his  arrange 
ments,  before  the  loud,  deep  note  of  the  ban  cloche,  succeeded 
by  its  continuous  and  deafening  clangor,  announced  the  pres 
ence  of  Talebardin  and  his  routiers  upon  the  village  green,  al 
though  they  were  not  as  yet  visible  to  Hugues  and  his  party, 
in  consequence  of  the  cottages  and  gardens  of  the  hamlet  cov 
ering  their  advance.  A  loud,  shrill  blast  of  bugles,  blended 
with  the  dull  boomings  of  the  Norman  kettle-drum,  rose  high 
and  keen  upon  the  morning  air,  quite  overpowering  for  a 
moment,  the  louder  peal  of  the  great  bells,  while  at  the  signal 
the  broad  banner  of  the  house  of  Floris  was  displayed  on  the 
battlements,  and  a  sustained  and  well-directed  flight  of  shafts 
and  quarrels,  was  poured  upon  the  enemy  from  that  command 
ing  elevation.  In  answer  to  the  music  of  the  garrison  the  wild 
marauders  set  up  simultaneously  a  yell  of  fierce  defiance,  which 
had  in  its  shrill  tones,  something  so  fiendish  and  unearthly  that 
it  made  the  heart  of  the  firmest  thrill,  and  struck  cold  conster 
nation  through  the  weaker  spirits  of  the  beleagured  garrison 


THE    ROUTIERS'    ATTACK.  77 

A  moment  afterward  a  flash  as  if  of  fire  was  seen  springing  up 
through  the  dry  thatch  of  one  of  the  low  hovels,  another,  and 
another,  and  then  a  broad,  red  glare  rushed  up  from  all  the 
burning  village,  crimsoning  the  whole  canopy  of  heaven,  ting 
ing  the  dusky  foliage  and  weatherbeaten  trunks  of  the  old 
pines  with  a  strange,  ruddy  lustre,  and  showing  every  loop-hole 
and  crenelle  in  the  castle-walls,  every  serf,  man-at-arms  and 
warder  on  the  battlements,  as  clearly  as  if  it  had  been  noonday. 
Directly  afterward  a  shaft  or  two  were  shot  against  the  walls 
from  the  covert  afforded  by  the  scattering  groups  of  fruit-trees 
on  the  esplanade,  but  so  well  did  the  archers  on  the  barbacan 
perform  their  duty,  pouring  in  shot  of  long  and  cross-bows, 
with  ever  and  anon  a  huge  steel-headed  beam  launched  from 
the  mighty  mangonel,  that  the  routiers  in  that  quarter  fell  back 
at  once  without  so  much  as  discovering  the  band  of  De  Coucy, 
which  if  it  had  not  been  cut  off,  must  have  been  desperately 
endangered,  at  the  least  if  the  marauders  had  made  good  their 
charge,  and  taken  a  position  midway  between  the  barbacan  and 
the  knight's  party.  Ten  minutes  or  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had 
elapsed  thus,  when  a  fresh  shout  was  set  up  from  above  the 
gate.  "  Gare  ?  gare  !  beau  sire  !"  and  a  first  flight  of  missiles 
was  launched  against  the  sp.ot  where  the  road  issued  from  the 
hamlet.  No  more  was  necessary  to  set  De  Coucy  on  his 
guard  ;  "  Now  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  now  !  gentlemen  !"  couching 
his  lance  as  he  did  so,  and  pricking  the  flanks  of  his  black 
charger  with  the  spur.  At  the  next  instant  with  their  wild  yell, 
and  their  accursed  war-cry,  the  robbers  wheeled  out  from  the 
cottages  at  a  hard  gallop,  and  for  the  first  time  perceiving  the 
bold  baron,  bore  down  upon  him  in  a  solid  column  of  sixty 
horse  at  least,  with  levelled  lances.  So  well,  however,  had 
the  knight  taken  his  position,  that  four  men  only  at  a  time  could 
come  against  him,  the  narrowness  of  the  road  making  it  quite 
impossible  for  more  than  that  number  to  array  themselves  in 


78  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

front,  with  room  sufficient  for  the  management  of  their  steeds, 
and  the  wielding  of  their  weapons.  This,  indeed,  was  the 
only  thing  which  gave  the  least  chance  of  success  to  the  de 
fenders,  yet  even  with  this  chance,  the  odds  were  fearfully 
against  them,  particularly  when  it  is  taken  into  the  considera 
tion,  that  Ermold  though  of  a  high  and  dauntless  spirit,  and 
from  his  boyhood  upward  trained  to  the  use  of  arms,  was  in 
years  but  a  stripling,  who  therefore  could  not  be  expected  to 
cope  with  full-grown  men  on  terms  of  equality  or  vantage. 
The  robbers,  who  formed  the  first  rank,  were  evidently  stout 
and  hardy  men-at-arms  —  he  who  appeared  their  leader  riding, 
when  they  drew  out  of  the  cover  of  the  burning  village,  on  their 
left  flank,  nearest  the  moat  and  therefore  facing  Ivernois.  He 
was  a  tall  and  powerful  man,  above  six  feet  in  height,  and 
limbed  proportionally  to  his  stature,  completely  cased  in  armor, 
apparently  of  Spanish  wormanship,  not  of  bright  steel,  however, 
but  of  plain,  unrelieved,  dead  black.  To  this  there  was  but 
one  exception,  that  the  whole  front  and  vizor  of  his  helmet  had 
been  wrought  into  the  shape  of  a  bare,  grinning  skull,  colored 
in  the  appropriate  hues,  while  over  this  dread  emblem  of  mor 
tality,  there  waved  a  tall,  black  plume,  like  those  which  now 
are  used  to  decorate  the  roofs  of  hearses  ;  his  shield  which  was 
black  likewise,  to  suit  the  rest  of  his  armor,  was  blazoned  with 
a  scull  and  cross-bones  argent  —  the  barding  of  his  destrier  a 
huge  black  Flemish  stallion  were  framed  to  match  his  rider's 
panoply,  and  altogether  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  find  a 
stouter  or  better  appointed-cavalier,  though  there  was  something 
awful  and  disgusting  in  the  emblazonry  he  had  adopted,  with 
the  intention  clearly  of  striking  terror  to  the  hearts  of  his  op 
ponents.  As  soon  as  this  formidable  personage  descried  the 
knight  of  Coucy,  he  shouted  something  to  his  nearest  comrade, 
the  import  of  which  was  drowned  by  the  thunder  of  the  horses' 
hoofs  and  the  din  of  the  plate-coats  ;  but  it  was  easy  to  perceive 


LEADERS    OF    THE    ROUTIERS.  79 

what  must  have  been  the  meaning  of  the  cry,  for  spurring  out 
a  little  way  before  his  rank,  he  passaged  quickly  to  his  right, 
his  comrade  making  the  same  movement  to  the  left,  and  then 
reined  back  immediately  into  the  line,  placing  himself,  as  the 
result  of  this  manoeuvre  directly  opposite  to  Hugues.  The 
three  companions  of  the  black  rider,  were  all  strong  troopers 
completely  armed,  and  powerfully  mounted ;  but  their  appoint 
ments  were  in  no  respect  to  be  compared  to  the  accoutrements 
of  Talebardin,  for  he  it  was  who  bore  that  grisly  frontlet,  though 
all  but  one  had  in  some  slight  degree  endeavored  to  increase 
the  terror  which  everywhere  accompanied  their  presence  by 
some  detestable  and  horrid  signs  of  carnage.  Thus  one  of  them, 
it  was  he  who  now  couched  his  spear  against  Giles  Ivernois,  a 
tall  man  in  a  brazen  harness  with  a  particolored  feather  of  red 
and  purple,  had  hung  about  his  neck,  after  the  fashion  of  a 
knightly  chain,  a  string  of  human  teeth,  torn  from  the  jaws  of 
living  victims  to  force  them  to  produce  their  real  or  suspected 
treasures.  The  third,  a  slighter  figure  who  wore  a  shirt  of 
dim  and  rusty  mail,  had  decked  his  casque  in  lieu  of  crest  or 
plume  with  a  thick,  plated  tress  of  beautiful  soft,  sunny  hair, 
dabbled  in  many  places  by  dark  stains  of  gore,  which  must  have 
been  shorn  from  the  head  of  some  highborn  and  lovely  female. 
The  fourth  alone  was  armed  in  clear,  bright  steel,  carefully 
kept  and  polished,  and  had  adopted  no  more  odious  emblem  of 
his  calling  than  a  green  plume  in  his  casque,  and  a  green  dragon 
painted  on  his  shield,  seeming  to  indicate  his  Saxon  origin. 
Long  as  it  has  occupied  us  to  describe  the  leaders  of  the  rou- 
tiers,  it  did  not  take  the  great  French  champion  five  seconds 
to  run  over  all  the  details  with  his  bright  intellectual  eye,  be 
fore  he  called  aloud  to  his  men,  to  bear  them  bravely,  shouted 
his  war-cry  of  St.  Paul,  and  dashed  with  his  four  lances  against 
the  overwhelming  force  of  the  marauders. 

Talebard  Talebardin  bore  him  like   a  man  ;  his  spear-head 


80  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

struck  full  on  the  fess-point  of  De  Coucy's  shield,  and  bored 
it  through  and  through,  but  turned  quite  blunt  and  edgeless  as 
it  encountered  the  fine  temper  of  his  Milan  plastron,  the  tough 
ash  staff  bursting  into  a  hundred  splinters  up  to  the  very  grasp 
of  his  gauntlet.  Not  so  the  champion's  :  he  had  charged  his 
lance  full  at  the  hollow  socket  of  the  skull-avantaille's  right 
eye,  and  had  it  entered  there,  the  race  of  Talebardin  had  been 
run  on  earth  that  moment ;  but  just  as  they  closed,  the  robber 
seeing  his  peril,  threw  his  head  up  sharply,  so  that  the  lance- 
point  struck  below  the  eye  just  where  the  vizor  met  the  beaver, 
and  tore  the  helmet,  which  remained  upon  the  baron's  spear, 
quite  off  the  ruffian's  head.  Still  Talebard  sat  firmly  in  his 
saddle  till  the  knight's  destrier  plunged  in,  and  striking  with 
the  horn  of  his  steel  chamfront  under  the  bard  ings  of  the  other's 
counter,  forced  him  to  rear  up,  and  then  hurled  him  backward, 
falling  upon  his  rider  and  overthrowing  two  more  of  the  rob 
bers  who  rode  next  behind.  The  like  success  attended  each 
one  of  the  Coucy's  followers ;  Giles  Ivernois'  antagonist  went 
down,  his  throat  transfixed  above  the  gorget's  rim,  that  the 
steel-point  came  out,  all  stained  and  gory,  under  the  edge  of 
his  cerveilliere.  Francon  Von  Voorhis  broke  his  spear  fairly 
with  the  English  rider,  but  better  horsed  than  he,  bore  him. 
down  by  the  shock,  while  strange  to  say,  young  Ermold,  though 
slighter  in  his  frame  and  weaker  from  his  years  than  any  of  the 
others,  charged  with  such  prowess  striking  his  man  upon  the 
crest,  that  he  hurled  him  ten  feet  out  of  his  saddle,  and  his 
own  horse  outmastering  his  bridle-arm  drove  on  with  his  lance 
still  unbroken,  and  in  its  rest,  and  splintered  it  in  full  career 
against  the  shield  of  a  robber  in  the  second  rank  bearing  him 
likewise  to  the  ground.  "  Ha  !  a  good  lance  !  a  good  lance, 
and  a  better  blow,"  shouted  the  baron,  as  he  saw  his  young 
esquire's  fair  exploit ;  "  rein  up  now,  rein  up  all,  and  back  with 
no  delay  Giles  Ivernois,  take  thou  my  lance  and  pitch  it  in 


THE  ESQUIRE'S  PERIL.  81 

the  wall  above  the  barbacan.  Back,  back  at  once  —  hearest 
thou  not,  Francon  ?  Back  both  of  you  ;"  and  though  reluctantly 
and  slowly,  both  did  fall  back  at  his  command,  while  he,  un 
sheathing  his  two-handed  broadsword,  prepared  to  cover  their 
retreat.  Ermold,  however,  although  he  heard  his  lord's  com 
mand,  and  was  all  eager  to  obey,  was  so  entangled  in  the  me 
lee,  that  he  could  now  by  no  means  extricate  himself;  for  his 
unruly  horse  had  dashed  into  the  very  centre  of  the  robbers, 
who  were  all  in  confusion  reeling  about  and  in  complete  dis 
order,  the  whole  of  their  front  rank  having  bee.n  overthrown  as 
by  a  thunderbolt,  with  three  men  of  the  second,  and  four 
horses.  Well  was  it,  therefore,  for  the  gallant  youth  that  they 
were  for  the  moment  in  so  fearful  disarray,  and  that  his  own 
horse  plunging  to  and  fro  with  reckless  fury  augmented  the 
dismay,  biting  and  kicking  with  his  heels,  and  striking  with 
his  forefeet  at  everything  that  came  near  him  ;  for  had  it  not 
been  so,  he  must  have  been  beaten  down  and  slain  before  the 
champion  could  assist  him.  It  was  not  long,  however,  that  he 
remained  unaided,  for  shouting  in  a  voice  heard  clearly  over 
all  the  din,  "  St.  Paul !  a  Tankarville  to  the  rescue !"  the 
baron,  too,  rushed  into  the  disordered  rout.  The  first  blow 
of  his  sweeping  broadsword  fell  on  the  barded  neck  of  a  stout 
war-horse,  and  breaking  the  strong  plates,  clove  half  way 
through  the  neck,  and  laid  both  steed  and  rider  prostrate  on 
the  earth ;  the  second  drove  in  the  helmet  on  the  head  of  an 
other,  and  fracturing  his  skull,  slew  him  upon  the  instant ;  the 
third  dashed  down  a  third  of  his  opponents,  but  broke  the 
weapon  to  the  hilt,  and  left  the  warrior  for  the  moment  weap 
onless 

Still  the  esquire  was  extricated  from  the  press  and  rescued, 
and  bidding  him  ride  in  as  sharply  as  he  might,  Hugues  stop 
ped  a  moment  to  loosen  his  mace  from  the  saddle-bow,  then 

galloped  after  him,  leaving  the  routiers  all  in  disarray,  gather- 

4* 


82  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

ing  up  their  dead,  and  succoring  their  wounded.  Just  at  that 
time,  however,  the  archers  on  the  barbacan  who  had  been 
quite  unable  to  loose  a  shaft  at  all  during  the  hand  to  hand  en 
counter,  seemingly  overlooked  the  count,  or  if  they  did  not 
overlook  him,  mistook  him  for  one  of  the  routiers,  and  dis 
charged  a  whole  flight  of  arrows.  Five  or  six  took  effect  at 
least  upon  the  person  of  the  knight,  piercing  his  overcoat  and 
rebounding  from  his  armor,  but  did  not,  such  was  the  temper 
of  his  panoply,  wound  him  at  all,  however  slightly.  This,  as 
it  seemed,  however,  did  not  satisfy  them,  for  although  did 
Coucy  shout  with  all  the  power  of  his  lungs,  shaking  his 
clinched  fist  angrily  at  the  men  on  the  walls,  they  followed  up 
their  volley  by  bending  the  great  mangonel  against  him,  and 
before  Giles  could  hinder  them,  who  had  run  up  to  the  esplan 
ade  above  the  barbacan,  to  pitch  his  master's  lance  upon  the 
wall,  they  turned  the  winch,  and  the  huge  engine  was  dis 
charged.  The  vast  beam  hurtled  through  the  air,  and  striking 
the  knight's  charger  on  the  counter,  buried  itself  in  the  body 
of  the  animal,  breaking  its  forelegs  and  killing  it  instantane 
ously  despite  the  heavy  armor  by  which  its  chest  was  covered, 
as  could  have  been  done  by  a  modern  cannon-ball. 

The  champion  was  pitched  headlong,  and  his  face  striking 
the  ground  first,  he  was  completely  stunned  for  the  moment, 
and  lay  there  insensible  with  the  blood  streaming  through 
the  bars  of  his  avantaille  from  both  nose  and  mouth,  in 
consequence  of  that  rude  concussion.  Meantime,  the  rob 
bers  had  recovered  altogether  from  the  temporary  disorder 
into  which  they  had  been  thrown,  and  rushed  on  in  a  body, 
Talebard,  who  had  regained  his  feet,  running  bare-headed 
in  front  of  all  the  horses  to  seize  the  prostrate  champion, 
nor  did  it  appear  possible  at  the  moment  that  any  timely 
rescue  could  be  made ;  for  Ermold  and  the  others  within 
the  archway  of  the  barbacan  could  not  discover  what  was 


THE    SERF.  83 

to  do  without,  and  those  on  the  esplanade  were  too  far  off  to 
give  effectual  assistance  Giles  Ivernois,  indeed,  rushed  down 
the  steep  stone  stair,  taking  three  steps  at  every  clanking 
stride  ;  but  he  would  have  arrived  too  late,  for  undismayed  by 
the  archery  which  was  aimed  at  them  from  above,  killing  one 
man  outright  and  wounding  several  others,  the  routiers  were 
within  three  paces  of  De  Coucy,  who  was  beginning  to  move 
faintly,  as  though  he  were  recovering  his  consciousness,  when 
a  man  leaped  the  palings  of  the  orchard  and  interposed  him 
self  between  the  baron  and  the  ruffians.  He  was  a  tall  young 
man  of  seven  or  eight  and  twenty  years,  magnificently  formed 
and  having  something  of  an  untaught  grace  in  his  bearing. 
He  had  no  helmet  on  his  head  which  was  covered  only  by  a 
thick  mass  of  jet-black  curly  hair,  which  set  off  admirably  the 
unburned  hue  of  his  expressive  manly  features.  His  eye  was 
dark  and  very  brilliant,  his  brow  broad  and  well  developed, 
and  all  his  features  fine  and  delicately  shaped.  In  fact,  he 
was  an  eminently  handsome  man,  not  in  form  only  but  in  fea 
ture,  and  what  is  more  remarkable,  in  the  expression  of  his 
features  also,  which  was  decidedly  of  an  imaginative  and  in 
tellectual  cast,  with  no  small  portion  of  firmness  and  undaunted 
daring  displaying  itself  in  the  vigorous  outlines  of  his  well- 
marked  mouth  and  massive  jaws.  His  dress,  however,  was 
much  at  variance  with  the  distinguished  beauty  of  his  person ; 
it  was  the  dark,  coarse  tunic  of  the  cheapest  serge  belted  about 
the  waist  by  a  broad  leathern  strap,  which  was  peculiar  to  the 
serf  or  villeyn  ;  his  feet,  too,  like  his  head,  and  all  his  legs 
from  the  limb  downward  were  bare  to  the  weather.  He  had 
no  weapons  but  a  woodman's  axe  and  a  knife  at  his  belt ;  yet 
not  for  that  did  he  shun  to  encounter  a  score  of  mail-clad  vet 
erans  ;  he  waved  the  broad  axe  round  his  head,  and,  as  the 
robber-chief  came  on,  he  dealt  him  such  a  blow  before  he  had 
indeed  observed  the  rescuer  at  all,  that  he  had  not  by  a  half- 


81  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

instinctive  effort  broken  the  force  of  the  blow  by  his  shield, 
he  never  had  moved  limb  any  more.  Luckily,  at  the  same 
moment  wherein  Talebard  recoiled,  and  after  staggering  a 
moment  sank  on  his  knee,  a  cross-bow  bolt  struck  down  the 
next  of  the  marauders,  and  profiting  by  the  occasion,  the  young 
man  raised  the  count  from  the  ground,  and  throwing  him  with 
all  his  heavy  panoply  across  his  shoulders,  he  darted  off  with 
him,  as  if  he  had  been  quite  untrammelled  by  a  load,  toward 
the  barbacan,  and  was  already  leaving  his  pursuers  far  behind, 
when  Giles,  and  Ermold,  and  a  dozen  others,  rushed  forth  and 
hurried  them  within  the  arch,  when  the  strong  doors  were 
forced  to  in  a  moment  and  barred  with  jealous  haste,  while,  at 
the  self-same  point  of  time,  the  steel  portcullis  came  clanging 
down  its  groove  of  stone,  and  all  was  for  the  time  secure. 

The  din,  as  it  appeared,  restored  De  Coucy  to  his  senses 
on  the  instant,  for  he  leaped  to  his  feet,  raised  his  vizor,  and 
wiped  away  the  blood  from  his  beard  and  mustaches  with  his 
mailed  hand,  exclaiming  as  he  did  so,  "  Where  am  I  ? —  Ha! 
That  was  a  perilous  mischance!  —  Where  am  I?  —  In  the 
barbacan?  —  Who  brought  me  hither?  —  Was't  thou,  Iver- 
nois?" — "  Not  so,  beau  sire,"  replied  the  veteran;  "I  was  upon 
the  ballium  when  you  fell ;  this  youth  here  brought  you  off, 
and  brought  you  off,  I  will  say,  nobly.  By  the  three  kings  of 
Cologne,  he  dealt  yon  Talebard  a  blow,  that,  but  for  his  shield 
of  proof,  had  split  him  to  the  chine !" 

"  Who  art  thou,  then  ?  Who  art  thou,  my  good  youth,  who 
thus  hast  rescued  Tankarville  ?" 

"  A  serf,  beau  sire," — the  seneschal  at  once  interrupted 
him  —  "  A  mere  Jacques  Bonhomme  —  an  ill-conditioned,  inso 
lent  serf — if  one  ever  was  on  the  lands  of  Verneuil.  He  has 
been  out  marauding  now,  I  warrant  me,  most  likely  leagued 
with  these  same  routiers,  else  how  did  it  fall  out  he  was  not 
in  the  hamlet  with  the  rest,  when  all  were  called  into  the 


THE    REWARD.  85 

castle  ?  I  prithee,  beau  sire,  heed  not  the  dog  at  all.  I  will 
account  with  him  so  soon  as  our  hands  be  free  of  this  foul 
scum  without !" 

"  Nay,  nay,  not  so,  good  friend,"  replied  the  baron  ;  "  De 
Coucy  deals  not  so  with  his  preserver ;"  but,  as  he  spoke,  the 
din  of  axes  plied  fiercely  on  the  outer  gate  fell  on  his  ears, 
and  he  perceived  at  once  that  a  lodgment  must  have  already 
been  effected  by  the  routiers  at  the  wall  foot.  "  But  of  this 
more  anon !"  he  shouted.  "  Up  to  the  esplanade !  Bring 
arbalasts  and  quarrels  ! — bring  boiling  oil,  and  pitch,  and  molt 
en  lead!  Cry  Tankarville !  St.  Paul!  — St.  Paul  for  Tan- 
karville !"  and  he  rushed  up  the  stairs,  leaving  his  rescuer  for 
gotten  to  the  mercies  of  the  seneschal,  who  thrust  him  in 
stantly  into  the  dungeon  of  the  castle,  promising  that  he  should 
hang  upon  the  morrow  ! 


SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE    EXECUTION. 

THE  Coucy  was  in  time,  and  in  time  only,  so  fiercely  did 
the  marauders  assault  the  gates,  which  creaked  already,  and 
bent  beneath  the  storm  of  blows  falling  upon  them  like  those 
of  the  smith  upon  his  clanging  stithy. 

In  the  haste  of  his  followers  to  bring  off  the  person  of  their 
chivalric  leader,  and  in  the  headlong  rush  of  the  routiers  ho 
ping  to  capture  him  a  second  time,  whether  from  forgetfulness, 
or  from  the  impossibility  of  securing  it,  the  drawbridge  had 
been  neglected,  and  the  gates  made  fast,  but  in  time  to  prevent 
the  enemy  from  entering  in,  pell-mell,  with  the  defenders  of 
the  place,  so  hardily  did  they  advance  under  the  deadly  hail 
of  missiles  which  were  poured  against  them. 

The  drawbridge  they  carried,  almost  unopposed,  and  a 
dozen  of  the  bravest  establishing  themselves  under  the  deep 
arch  of  the  ballium,  where  they  were  sheltered  from  all  means 
of  annoyance  by  the  besieged  men-at-arms,  commenced  thun 
dering  on  the  portcullis  bars,  with  that  din  which  had  aroused 
the  Coucy  to  the  full  possession  of  his  faculties,  while  the  re 
mainder  arrayed  in  line  on  the  farther  verge  of  the  moat,  kept 
up  so  incessant  a  volley  of  cloth-yard  arrows,  many  of  them 
being  English  archers,  free  companions  who  had  of  late  be 
come  marauders,  that  not  a  man  could  show  himself  upon  the 
battlements  without  being  made  a  target  for  a  dozen  of  fork- 
headed  shafts.  Three  or  four  of  the  light-armed  vassals,  un 
protected  by  proof  armor,  had  been  shot  dead  or  mortally 
wounded  at  the  first  volley,  and  the  earliest  care  of  De  Coucy 


AN    UNERRING    SHOT.  87 

was  to  withdraw  them  entirely  from  the  front,  under  orders  to 
hold  themselves  sheltered  perfectly  behind  the  coignes  and 
angles  of  the  battlements,  and  to  shoot  as  sharply  as  they 
might  through  the  crenelles  with  their  cross-bows,  but  on  no 
account  to  expose  a  limb  to  the  tremendous  shot  of  that  uner 
ring  archery. 

Himself,  confident  in  his  panoply,  and  absolutely  dauntless 
by  disposition,  he  strode  forward  to  the  verge  of  the  esplanade 
and  leaned  far  over  the  bartizan,  so  as  to  command  a  view  of 
what  was  in  process  below,  exposing  himself  to  the  cloth-yard 
arrows  with  a  perfect  contempt  of  death.  Four  or  five  of  the 
steel-points  struck  on  his  corslet,  and  bounded  back  blunted 
into  the  moat ;  but  one,  more  deadly  aimed,  found  an  air-hole 
in  his  avantaille,  and,  the  elastic  bars  opening  a  little  to  its 
violent  impulse,  penetrated  till  the  steel  barbs  were  wedged  in 
the  narrow  orifice,  where  it  stood  fixed,  but  not  till  it  had 
deeply  cut  the  flesh  on  his  left  temple,  and  drawn  a  long 
stream  of  scarlet  blood,  which  flowed  out  through  the  orifices 
of  the  vizor,  and  stained  his  bright  gorget  with  its  fearful  hue. 
A  wild,  triumphant  cheer  from  the  banditti  hailed  the  appear 
ance  of  De  Coucy's  gore  ;  for  it  was  rarely  that  a  knight's 
panoply  of  Spanish  or  Italian  steel  was  pierced  by  any  lighter 
weapon  than  the  couched  lance,  or  severed  unless  by  the 
sheer  sweep  of  the  two-handed  sword,  or  the  contusing  blow 
of  battle-axe  or  mace,  and  they  hailed  the  champion's  wound 
as  a  proof  that  he  was  not,  at  the  best,  invincible. 

It  was  scarcely  for  a  moment,  however,  that  they  were  per 
mitted  to  rejoice,  for  it  required  but  a  single  effort  of  the  iron 
fingers  of  the  knight  to  wrench  the  arrow-head  from  the  un 
broken  avantaille  and  the  wound  was  too  trivial  even  to  re 
quire  stanching. 

Almost  before  it  was  extricated,  four  of  the  vassals  of  Ver- 
neuil  appeared  on  the  bartizan  bearing,  supported  from  two 


88  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

massive  iron  bars,  which  they  carried  two  and  two  upon  their 
shoulders,  a  huge  iron  kettle  containing  at  least  a  dozen  gal 
lons  of  boiling  oil,  the  dense  unsavory  wreaths  of  its  thick 
smoke  curling  upward  like  the  reek  of  a  witch's  caldron. 

"  Ha !  ha  !  St.  Paul  for  Tankarville  !"  shouted  the  cham 
pion.  "  Now  will  we  scatter  them.  Look  to  your  bows,  men, 
and  your  arbalasts.  See  that  when  the  fiery  stream  scatters 
them  from  beneath  the  arch,  you  suffer  none  to  regain  its  shel 
ter  !  Now,  then,  my  merry  men,  poise  it  right  here  above  the 
channel  of  the  Machicolles.  So  !  so !  Now  thrust  a  lever 
under  it ;  hook  on  that  chain  to  the  handle,  and  await  the 
the  word  !  Attention  !"  There  was,  as  is  usual  in  old  feudal 
castles,  a  broad,  deep  gutter  or  canal,  running  all  round  the 
esplanade  of  the  gate-house  within  the  battlements,  opening 
through  some  twenty  wide-mouthed  vents  into  as  many  per 
pendicular  funnels  or  spouts,  known  architecturally  as  Machi 
colations,  so  framed  as  to  discharge  showers  of  any  liquid,  or 
fluid  substance  upon  the  heads  of  such  persons  as  should  be 
collected  within  the  embrasure  of  the  archway  below. 

This  archway  contained  a  space  of  about  eighteen  feet  in 
depth  by  a  width  of  ten  or  twelve,  closed  on  the  right  and  left 
by  the  solid  flanks  of  the  castle  wall,  inwardly  by  the  portcul 
lis  and  iron-gates,  and  outwardly  by  the  moat,  where  it  should 
have  been  blockaded  by  the  drawbridge,  had  it  been  raised,  as 
it  ought  to  have  been,  in  the  teeth  of  the  assailants.  This, 
however,  not  being  done,  above  a  dozen  of  the  boldest  of  the 
banditti  had  established  themselves  under  the  vault.  And 
where,  being  under  cover  and  out  of  reach  of  the  defenders* 
missiles,  they  supposed  themselves  secure,  and  had  already 
seriously  damaged  the  grated  portcullis,  many  bars  of  which 
had  yielded  to  the  furious  blows  of  their  battle-axes. 

The  quick  glance  of  the  knight  during  the  moment  he  lean 
ed  over  the  battlements,  sufficed  to  render  him  master  of  the 


THE    CALDRON    OF    BOILING    OIL.  89 

facts  that  were  in  progress  ;  and,  at  his  word  the  vassals  and 
some  half  dozen  of  the  men-at-arms  mustering  under  the  shel 
ter  of  the  angular  battlements  and  bartizans,  held  their  arbalasts 
ready  bent  with  the  square-headed  quarrels  in  their  tubes,  and 
their  long-bows  half  drawn  with  the  shafts  notched  upon  the 
string,  expecting  the  scattering  and  backward  rush  of  the  ene 
my,  which  should  place  them  at  their  mercy. 

The  caldron  was  slung  directly  over  the  heads  of  the  un 
suspecting  routiers  ;  the  knight  had  armed  himself  with  a  huge 
iron  crow-bar,  the  lever,  usually  worked  by  two  men  of  the 
enormous  mangonel,  or  trebuchet,  over  the  gates,  and  now  he 
waved  it  high  over  his  helmet,  shouting  in  tones  high  as  a 
trumpet's,  "  In  God's  name  let  go  !  St.  Paul  for  Tankarville  ! 
St.  Paul !" 

So  terribly  did  his  voice  ring  downward  through  the  machi- 
colles,  that  one  of  the  banditti  was  startled  and  looked  upward. 
On  the  instant,  though  too  late,  he  perceived  the  lurid  glare 
of  the  seething  caldron,  and  the  reeking  steam  above  it, 
through  the  narrow  funnel — he  foresaw  the  fate  that  awaited 
them. 

His  eyes  glaring,  his  finger  pointed  upward,  his  terrified 
mouth  wide  open,  he  shrieked,  "  Oil !  oil !  Beware  of  the 
oil !"  He  was  yet  in  the  act  of  shrieking,  when  the  huge 
kettle  was  overset  into  the  conduit,  and  down  rushed  through 
each  one  of  the  twenty  funnels  a  hissing  scathing  torrent  that 
literally  blasted  everything  which  it  encountered,  as  if  it  had 
been  the  fire  of  heaven. 

The  miserable  wretch  —  whose  speech  it  cut  short  in  mid  ac 
cents,  smiting  him  full  in  the  staring  eyes  and  open  mouth — 
reeled  out  senseless,  blind,  speechless,  dead  probably  to  all 
consciousness  of  pain  —  whirled  madly  round  and  round  upon 
the  drawbridge  for  an  instant,  and  then  plunged  in  his  agonies 
into  the  deep  moat  where  his  life  and  tortures  ended.  Two 


90  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

more,  full  upon  whose  heads  the  fiery  deluge  had  descended, 
fell  dead  where  they  stood,  scalded  through  their  panoply  of 
proof,  while  half  a  dozen  others  staggered  out  with  an  appal 
ling  yell,  all  scathed  and  writhing  in  torture,  only  to  meet  in 
stant  death  from  the  shafts  of  the  infuriated  archers  on  the 
walls,  not  one  of  whom  missed  his  aim  in  that  hideous  emer 
gency. 

"  St.  Paul !  St.  Paul !  for  Tankarville !"  and  forth  sprang 
the  great  champion,  De  Coucy,  to  consummate  the  ruin.  Un 
der  the  base  of  a  huge  pinnacle  of  wrought  freestone  that 
crowned  the  right  hand  buttress  of  the  keep  he  thrust  the  point 
of  his  ponderous  lever,  bearing  upon  it  with  the  whole  con 
centrated  force  of  his  practised  powers  and  great  bodily  weight, 
that  the  vast  mass  rocked  and  tottered. 

At  the  same  instant,  prompt  to  comprehend  and  further 
every  hint  or  movement  of  his  captain,  Giles  Ivernois  snatched 
up  a  gigantic  sledge-hammer,  part  also  of  the  apparatus  of  the 
trebuchet,  and  swinging  it  round  his  head  delivered  such  a 
blow  on  the  top  of  the  pinnacle,  just  in  the  point  of  time  when 
the  knight  upheaved  its  base,  that  it  went  down  headlong,  and, 
had  not  one  of  his  comrades  caught  him  round  the  body,  the 
stout  man-at-arms  would  have  followed  the  falling  mass,  pre 
cipitated  by  the  impetus  of  his  own  mighty  effort. 

He  was  arrested  on  the  very  verge  barely  in  time,  but  sheer 
down  rushed  the  immense  stone,  hurtling  through  the  air,  and 
alighting  exactly  midway  of  the  planks  upon  the  draw-bridge, 
dashed  it  to  atoms  with  a  thundering  crash,  so  that  no  fragment 
was  left  of  six  feet  in  length,  and  that  all  communication  be 
tween  the  castle  and  the  farther  bank  of  the  moat  was  cut  off, 
and,  consequently,  that  Talebard  Talebardin  and  three  of  his 
best  men  who  still  remained  under  the  vault  of  the  barbacan, 
the  boiling  oil  having  fallen  behind  them,  were  left  as  prison 
ers  immersed  between  the  bridgeless  moat  and  the  castle  gates. 


RESCUE    FOR    RESCUE.  91 

Ten  minutes  had  scarcely  elapsed,  since  the  Coney  had 
rushed,  clanking  in  his  plate  and  mail,  up  the  steps  to  the  es 
planade,  though  it  has  occupied  more  time  to  relate  than  it  did 
to  enact  the  events  crowded  into  so  brief  a  space,;  and  now 
he  rushed  down  again  with  Ermold  de  Marcy  and  Giles  Iver- 
nois,  and  Francon  Von  Voorhis  at  his  heels,  resolute  to  rescue 
his  prisoners  let  what  might  come  of  it. 

"  Kill  him  not,"  he  cried,  "  kill  him  not,  on  your  lives.  For 
he  shall  hang  in  his  steel  coat  over  the  gate  of  Verneuil,  as 
the  Lord  liveth,  and  as  I  live  to  swear  it  by  my  patron-saint, 
St.  Paul !  Now  throw  the  gates  wide  open  into  the  moat 
with  the  others,  but,  on  your  lives,  save  Talebardin." 

As  he  passed  through  the  court-yard  toward  the  gate,  he 
strode  across  a  narrow  iron  grating,  and,  as  he  did  so,  a  faint 
voice,  as  if  from  a  great  depth  below  the  surface,  came  up 
heavily  to  his  ears,  "  Rescue,  lord  count  of  Tankarville ;  res 
cue  for  rescue,  as  you  are  belted  knight  and  Norman  noble  !" 

The  men,  who  followed  at  his  heels,  heard  the  dolorous 
cry ;  but  whether  their  leader  heard  it  or  no,  they  knew  not ; 
for  he  gave  no  sign,  but  steadily  rushed  forward,  with  the  fury 
of  vengeance  in  his  heart,  and  laying  his  own  hand  the  first 
on  the  bars  of  the  castle-gate,  swung  back  the  largest  on  its 
pivot.  Another  moment,  and,  his  men  seconding  him,  the 
heavy  leaves  revolved,  grating  hoarsely  on  their  hinges,  and 
instantly  in  rushed,  mad  with  despair,  the  four  routiers. 

It  might  be,  that  they  only  hoped  to  die  by  the  soldiers' 
weapon  ;  it  might  be  that  they  yet  had  a  thought  to  master  the 
Coucy,  and  so  to  win  the  castle  Whatever  were  their  hopes, 
they  endured  but  for  a  moment ;  for,  though  they  fought  reso 
lutely  with  their  short  weapons,  they  were  opposed  to  the 
long  lances  which  the  men  of  Tankarville  had  snatched  up, 
and  the  three  followers  of  Talebardin  were  borne  headlong 


92  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

into  the  moat,  and  there,  carried  down  by  the  weight  of  their 
armor,  miserably  perished. 

Nor  did  their  chief  fare  better ;  for  as  he  forced  his  way  in, 
striking  tremendous  blows  in  all  directions,  the  champion 
dealt  him  one  blow  on  the  crown  of  his  cervallivre,  so  justly 
calculated,  that  it  dashed  the  stout  casque  to  shivers,  and 
brought  him  down,  as  he  intended,  stunned  but  not  slain.  The 
gates  were  secured  again ;  and,  before  he  recovered  his  sen 
ses,  the  routier  was  fettered  hand  and  foot,  and  dragged  rude 
ly  up  to  the  esplanade,  where  to  expiate  his  crimes  by  an 
unsoldierly  and  slavish  death. 

But  before  the  knight  followed  up  the  stair,  he  paused  above 
the  grating  whence  that  said  voice  had  issued,  and  cried 
aloud  cheerily — 

"  Who  cried  for  rescue  on  the  Tankarville  ?  If  you  be 
wronged  in  anything,  speak  now  and  have  redress,  or  be  for 
ever  silent.  Who  cried  upon  the  Tankarville  ?" 

"  It  is  I,  beau  sire,"  replied  the  voice  ;  "  I,  whose  good 
luck  it  was,  not  an  hour  since,  to  bring  you  off  from  the  rout- 
iers  !" 

"  Splendor  of  God  !"  cried  the  count,  his  eyes  seeming  to 
flash  fire  through  the  bars  of  his  vizor,  and  he  stamped  violent 
ly  on  the  ground  as  he  spoke  — "  Splendor  of  God!  who  has 
dared  do  this  thing,  or  who  am  I  that  living  man  should  do  the 
Coucy  this  dishonor !" 

"  It  is  the  seneschal,  beau  sire,"  replied  Ermold.  "  He 
has  some  grudge  against  this  brave  youth,  and  swore  a  foul 
oath,  though  you  heard  it  riot,  that  he  should  hang  to-morrow  !" 

"  Sooner  himself,  vile  knave  !"  replied  the  Coucy.  "  He 
shall  change  places  with  the  lad,  or  ere  an  hour.  Go  find  the 
chatelaine  de  Verneuil,  Ermold  de  Marcy  ;  greet  her  from  me 
as  from  the  count  of  Tankarville,  not  from  Sir  Hugues  de 
Coucy,  mark  me !  show  her  how  this  has  come  to  pass,  and 


CAPTURE  AND  DOOM  OF  TALEBARDIN.          93 

crave  of  her,  as  my  boon,  the  instant  freedom  of  the  serf,  for  it 
comports  not  with  the  honor  of  the  Tankarville  to  owe  life  to  a 
slave.  With  the  seneschal,  pray  her  that  she  take  order,  as 
she  shall  judge  the  best.  Tell  her,  meanwhile,  from  me  to 
fear  nothing.  The  peril  is  overpast  already  ;  and,  ere  another 
sun,  not  one  of  these  villains  shall  pollute  the  village  with  his 
presence." 

He  said  no  more,  but  ascended  to  the  platform,  where  the 
rentier  stood  bareheaded,  and  bound  hand  and  foot,  with  a 
stout  cord  about  his  neck,  the  end  of  which  was  in  the  hand 
of  the  valiant  man-at-arms,  Giles  Ivernois.  The  robber  was  pale 
as  death  already,  even  to  his  lips  ;  yet  his  eye  was  bright  and 
firm,  and  his  demeanor  steady.  The  pride  of  the  soldier  over 
mastered  the  terrors  of  the  robber ;  and  he  was  resolute  to  die 
dauntless. 

He  even  affected  a  smile,  as  the  champion  approached  him 
— "  Well,  beau  sire  de  Coucy,"  he  said  half  insolently,  "I 
would  have  held  you  to  ransom  when  I  had  you  in  my  power ; 
and  I  now  look  to  you  for  the  like  courtesy  at  your  hands. 
As  a  good  man-at-arms,  and  knowing  my  own  worth,  I  fix  my 
ransom  at  twenty  thousand  crowns  of  the  sun,  and  the  surren 
der  of  my  strong  castle  Trcquier,  in  Brittany.  My  men 
shall  draw  off  at  once,  and  I  will  remain  myself  your  hostage 
for  due  performance  of  the  contract,  until  the  whole  be  paid." 

"  Ay !  indeed  will  you,  Talebard  Talebardin,"  returned  the 
knight  gravely.  "  Even  if  you  could  give  me  Paris,  in  lieu 
of  your  strong  castle  of  Trequier,  and  all  Guienne,  Poitou,  and 
Brittany,  in  lieu  of  your  twenty  thousand  crowns  of  the  sun, 
you  should  hang  under  this  blessed  sun  of  heaven,  and  your 
carcase  should  lie  in  yonder  moat  until  the  day  of  judgment, 
when  the  archangel's  trumpet  shall  awaken  it  unto  perdition 
everlasting !" 

"  Proud  lord,  thou  liest !"  shouted  the  equally  proud  robber, 


94  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

gnashing  his  teeth  between  rage  and  anguish.  "  Proud  lord, 
thou  liest !  to  thy  teeth,  I  tell  thee  so ;  even  as  I  defy  thee. 
And  if  I  do  go  hence  to  perdition,  as  thou  sayest,  I  care  not  — 
for  I  shall  meet  thee  there,  thou  feudal  tyrant,  thou  lewd  lord, 
and  cruel  conqueror !  I  summon  thee  to  hell,  and  that  within 
twelve  hours  ;  and  now  to  hell  or  heaven  as  it  may  be !  but 
not,  liar,  by  the  halter  or  the  gallows  !  Ha !  ha  !  Talebard  ! 
Talebard !  Sainct  Diable  for  Talebardin  !" 

And  as  he  ended,  before  any  one  suspected  his  intention,  he 
darted  forward  with  so  sudden  a  jerk,  and  so  strong  an  impe 
tus,  that  he  snatched  the  end  of  the  halter  out  of  the  hands  of 
Ivernois,  and  bounded  forward  to  the  battlements  as  eagerly  as 
if  to  banquet-board,  or  to  bridal  bed. 

Quick,  however,  as  he  was,  both  of  intent  and  action,  there 
was  one  quicker  yet  than  he  ;  for,  as  he  darted  to  the  sheer 
descent,  with  the  end  of  the  halter  trailing  behind  him  over 
the  platform,  the  Coucy  set  his  mailed  foot  on  it,  half  arresting 
it  as  it  ran  out ;  and,  even  before  the  robber  took  his  death- 
spring,  he  had  seized  the  slack  in  his  hands  and  flung  it  round 
the  flag-staff,  where  it  was  instantly  secured  by  the  men-at- 
arms. 

Talebard  leaped  into  mid  air,  utterly  unconscious  that  his 
suicidal  purpose  was  frustrated,  until  the  noose  checked  him, 
and  he  was  dashed  heavily  against  the  castle-wall,  whence  he 
rebounded  again  and  again  in  his  clashing  panoply,  until  his 
foul  soul  went  to  its  appointed  place,  winged  on  a  grisly  im 
precation,  which  was  the  last  word,  on  earth,  of  Talebard 
Talebardin. 


THE    CAPTIVE    SERF.  95 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

DEATH    UNDER    SHIELD. 

As  the  spirit  of  the  murderer  and  villain  passed  away, 
whither  we  dare  not  say,  the  kettledrums  and  trumpets  rang 
out  triumphantly,  and  the  loud  shout  of  "  Verneuil,  Verneuil, 
and  Tankarville !  and  so  perish  all  the  foes  of  the  gentle  Nor 
man  race  !"  rose  wildly  and  triumphantly  into  the  air,  and  the 
great  tocsin  of  the  castle  tolled  dismally,  the  death  alarum  of 
the  dishonored  dead. 

A  moment  or  two  later,  Ermold  de  Marcy  and  an  elderly 
man  dressed  in  black  velvet,  the  chamberlain  of  the  castle, 
made  their  appearance  on  the  ramparts,  conducting  the  young 
serf,  who  had  been  instantly  liberated  from  his  dungeon  at  the 
knight's  request,  but  who  still  wore  an  iron  collar  about  his 
neck,  to  which  had  been  attached  a  small  light  chain  of  the 
same  metal. 

The  chamberlain  bowed  low  as  he  approached  the  count, 
and  when  he  stood  before  him  holding  the  serf  by  the  chain — 
"  Fair  sir,"  he  said,  "  lord  count  of  Tankarville,  knight  of 
St.  Denys,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  peer  of  France,  noble  of  the 
Roman  empire,  these  from  Gabrielle,  chatelaine  de  Verneuil, 
gratefully  greeting.  She  thanks  you  for  herself  and  for  her 
lord  now  absent  in  the  field,  the  sieur  de  Floris,  who  present 
would  have  known  better  how  to  entreat  you  ;  she  thanks  you 
for  her  life,  and,  more  than  life,  for  her  honor.  She  admits 
that  she  owes  you  all,  the  castle  she  inhabits,  the  lands  she 
holds  in  fee  or  in  fief,  herself  and  all  that  belongs  to  her,  from 
her  and  hers  unto  you  and  yours  for  ever.  And  now  through 


96  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCT. 

my  hands,  she  thus  gives  you  handsel  of  the  same,  the  castle 
and  the  lands  of  Verneuil,  to  herself  of  her  own  right  hereto 
fore  pertaining,  with  all  its  dues  and  droits  and  service,  and 
vert  and  venison,  and  men  and  maids,  serfs  of  the  soil  for  ever, 
here  in  the  person  of  this  man,  Henri  le  Noir  of  this  hamlet 
of  Verneuil,  and  seeing  that  he  is  serf  of  the  soil  and  may  not 
be  moved  thence,  ten  roods  of  ground  now  set  off  to  his  occu 
pation,  and  the  cabin  he  inhabits — to  you  and  yours,  Count 
Hugues  de  Tankarville,  to  have  and  to  hold,  to  give  or  to  sell, 
to  head  or  to  hang,  at  your  pleasure.  Hear  this,  all  ye  who 
are  present,  and  bear  witness,  now  and  always  !" 

Then  the  knight  received  the  chain  into  his  hands,  and  un 
covering  his  head,  made  answer:  "  I,  Hugues  count  de  Tan 
karville,  knight  of  St.  Denys,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  peer  of 
France,  noble  of  the  German,  do  gratefully  accept  the  thanks 
of  the  chatelaine,  and  this  her  homage  and  transfer  of  her 
castle  and  lands  of  Verneuil,  with  all  droits  and  dues  and  ser 
vices  thereunto  appertaining  —  and  more  especially  this  hand 
sel  of  the  same,  this  man  Henri  le  Noir,  and  these  ten  roods 
of  ground  now  set  off  to  his  occupation,  aud  this  cabin  he  in 
habits,  and  him  and  these  I  take  and  accept  from  her  and  hers 
unto  me  and  mine,  to  have  and  to  hold,  to  give  or  to  sell,  to 
head  or  to  hang,  as  to  us  shall  seem  good  for  ever.  But  all 
besides  these,  the  lands  and  castle  of  Verneuil,  with  its  dues 
and  droits,  its  services,  its  verts  and  venison,  its  men  and 
maids,  serfs  of  the  soil,  I  restore  arid  make  over  from  me  and 
mine  unto  her  and  hers,  as  it  were  sin  and  shame,  unworthy 
of  stricken  knight  and  belted  noble,  to  deprive  so  bright  and 
beautiful  a  lady  of  anything  of  her  beholdings." 

Then  he  stooped  down  toward  the  serf,  who  was  kneeling 
at  his  feet,  and  taking  both  his  hands  into  his  own  — "  Henri 
le  Noir,"  he  asked  solemnly,  "  although  you  may  not  contest 
it,  seeing  that  it  is  lawfully  performed  and  duly,  do  you  accept 


THE    MANUMISSION.  97 

the  transfer  from  the  chatelaine  of  Verneuil,  your  lady,  to  me 
Count  Hugues  of  Tankarville,  your  lord,  from  hers  to  be  mine 
so  long  as  you  shall  live,  to  be  true  servant  to  me  and  mine 
till  death." 

"  I  do,"  replied  the  man  steadily,  "  and  I  will  be  true  man 
to  you,  lord  count,  so  aid  me  God !  for  ever. 

"  An  armorer  and  a  file,"  cried  the  count,  turning  to  Iver- 
nois.  "And  give  me  a  white  wand,  that  of  this  serf,  with 
Heaven's  good  blessing,  we  make  this  day  a  freeman.  Bring 
trumpets,  too,  and  a  pursuivant,  if  there  be  one." 

Then  as  the  wand  was  placed  in  his  hand,  seeing  that  the 
armorer  stood  ready  with  his  file,  and  that  in  the  absence  of  a 
regular  armorer  Ermold  de  Marcy  had  assumed  the  office,  he 
touched  the  man  lightly  on  the  head  and  on  both  shoulders 
with  the  rod,  exclaiming,  "  Henri  le  Noir,  serf  thou  art  not, 
nor  villeyn,  any  longer,  but  freeman  and  landholder  and  vassal 
of  the  Tankarville,  for  my  ten  roods  of  land  I  give  thee  in  Ver 
neuil,  from  me  and  mine  unto  thee  and  thine  for  ever,  only 
thou  shalt  do  homage  to,  for  the  same,  and  serve  me  with  man- 
service  in  the  field,  one  hundred  days  in  the  year,  when  my 
broad  banner  shall  be  displayed  and  my  trumpets  blown  for 
Tankarville.  Sound  now  and  make  proclamation." 

A  shrill  blast  was  blown  up  at  the  word,  and  Ermold  de 
Marcy  made  loud  proclamation. 

Then  Henri  le  Noir  again  placed  both  his  hands  in  the 
hands  of  his  feudal  lord,  and  swore  him  fealty  and  faith,  and 
did  him  homage  for  his  land. 

And  again  the  trumpet  sounded,  and  again  Ermold  made 
proclamation. 

And  the  armorer  filed  away  the  iron  collar  from  his  neck, 
and  the  white  wand  with  which  his  lord  had  manumitted  him 
was  placed  in  his  hand,  and  a  sharp  sword  was  girded  about 
his  waist,  and  he  who  had  knelt  down  but  a  few  short  minutes' 

5 


98  SIR    HUGUES     HE    COUCY. 

space  before,  a  serf  and  slave,  whose  life  his  lord  might  take 
at  any  moment,  with  reason  or  without  reason,  arose  a  free 
cultivator,  a  free  owner  of  the  soil,  a  free  man-at-arms,  capable 
even  to  be  stricken  a  knight,  or  by  the  emperor  to  be  made 
noble  and  to  be  endowed  with  coat-armor. 

And  so  strange  was  in  those  day  the  admixture  of  ferocity 
with  gentleness  and  even  grace  in  the  doings  of  chivalry,  that 
even  in  the  midst  of  the  fury  and  frenzy  of  that  desperate  feud, 
the  condottieri,  mere  brigands  as  they  were  and  banditti,  with 
out  the  walls,  panting  as  they  were  to  avenge  their  leader's 
death,  offered  no  interruption  to  the  ceremony,  shot  no  arrow 
upon  the  walls,  but  stood  there  silent  and  reverent  spectators  of 
the  impressive  scene,  for  they  had  recognised  the  person  of 
the  manumitted  serf,  as  he  who  had  performed  the  gallant  deed 
of  arms  and  rescued  the  champion,  and  soldiers  before  they  be 
came  routiers,  the  soldier-spirit  was  still  predominant  among 
them,  and  they  could  both  themselves  honor  valor,  and  rejoice 
to  see  it  rewarded  by  the  brave  and  noble. 

Therefore  they  now  stood  silent  and  observant,  nor  that 
only,  but  when  the  trumpets  and  kettle-drums  struck  upon  the 
battlements  in  honor  of  the  new-made  freeman,  their  bugles 
sent  back  an  answering  flourish,  and  their  voices  sent  forth  a 
full-mouthed  cheer,  even  while  the  carcase  of  their  late  chief 
Talebardin  wavered  in  the  wind,  like  the  vilest  carrion  sway 
ing  from  the  castle-walls. 

Within  a  minute  or  two  of  the  completion  of  the  ceremoni 
al,  and  almost  at  the  same  instant,  the  hard  galloping  of  horses 
was  heard  by  the  beleaguered  garrison  from  two  several  direc 
tions,  of  one,  and  apparently  the  nearer  of  the  two,  the  sounds 
came  down  the  road,  by  which  the  Lord  of  Tankarville  had 
gained  the  fortalice  of  Verneuil,  and  by  which  the  routiers  had 
subsequently  come  down  upon  them  —  the  other  seemed  to  be 
approaching  by  a  strong  by-path  leading  down  through  the 


APPROACHING    REINFORCEMENTS.  99 

woods  from  the  higher  ground  to  the  rearward  of  the  castle, 
where  there  was  a  small  postern  gate  or  sallyport,  unprovided 
with  a  drawbridge,  the  want  of  which  was  supplied  in  time  of 
need  by  a  plank  run  out  from  the  open  door  and  guided  across 
the  moat  by  a  rope  from  the  battlements.  On  this  side,  not 
being  sufficiently  strong  in  numbers  to  invest  the  place  regu 
larly,  and  having  neither  ladders  nor  any  other  engines  by  aid 
of  which  they  might  hope  to  cross  the  deep  wet  ditch  or  to 
scale  the  blank  walls,  the  routiers  had  bestowed  no  more  atten 
tion,  after  the  first  reconnoitring  parties  had  examined,  and 
reported  it  impracticable. 

But  now  as  the  Coucy  noted  the  distant  horse-hoof,  which 
seemed  to  be  drowned  to  the  ears  of  the  marauders  by  the 
nearer  clang  which  was  approaching  them,  then  he  conceived 
the  idea  that  reinforcements  to  the  robbers  and  relief  to  him 
self  were  at  once  approaching,  and  in  this  he  was  confirmed, 
when  his  acute  sense  of  hearing,  long  sharpened  by  experi 
ence  of  every  warlike  stratagem,  perceived  that  the  rider,  who 
ever  he  was,  had  left  the  beaten  track,  probably  from  fearing 
its  betrayal  of  his  approach,  and  was  making  his  way  through 
the  wood-paths,  where  the  mossy  soil  gave  no  tidings  to  ears 
that  were  not  awake  to  particular  suspicion. 

Without  a  moment's  delay  the  chief  despatched  Ermold  de 
Marcy  to  keep  watch  on  the  rearward  esplanade,  and  immedi 
ately  afterward  ordered  Henri  le  Noir,  who  now  as  a  land 
holder  had  received  the  title  of  Henri  of  Verneuil,  to  arm 
himself  cap-a-pie  as  a  man-at-arms,  and  then  to  go  hold  him 
self  in  readiness  at  the  postern  to  admit  any  friendly  messen 
ger,  should  one  arrive,  while  he  himself  kept  a  jealous  out 
look  on  the  proceedings  of  the  marauders. 

It  was  soon  seen  that  his  forebodings  were  correct,  for  with 
in  five  minutes  after  his  sending  Ermold  to  the  rear,  a  horse 
man  galloped  down  to  join  the  marauders,  and  was  received 


100  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

with  a  burst  of  savage  merriment  and  congratulation  that 
proved  him  an  old  and  favorite  companion. 

While  he  was  yet  observing  what  should  follow,  one  of  the 
menials  of  the  place  came  up  requesting  the  Count  de  Tan- 
karville,  on  the  part  of  his  young  esquire,  that  he  would  be 
pleased  to  join  him  at  the  postern  on  matters  of  great  moment. 

The  rider,  whose  approach  they  had  heard,  had  shown  him 
self  on  foot  on  the  farther  bank  of  the  castle  ditch,  leaving  his 
horse  picketed  in  the  pinewood,  and  being  recognised  by 
Henri  of  Verneuil,  had  hastily  disarmed  himself,  swum  the 
moat,  and  been  admitted  at  the  postern.  He  was  the  chosen 
page  of  the  Sieur  de  Floris,  who  it  appeared  in  crossing  the 
country  in  quite  a  different  direction  toward  Mirepoix,  had 
learned  that  a  roving  band  under  the  famous,  or  rather  infam 
ous,  Aymerigot  Marcel  was  on  its  way  with  twenty  spears  to 
attempt  a  surprise  of  Verneuil ;  and  suspecting  in  no  wise  that 
this  was  a  concerted  movement,  and  that  the  castle  was  al 
ready  beset,  he  had  sent  on  his  page  to  warn  the  people  of 
their  peril,  and  to  announce  his  coming  by  daybreak  at  the 
latest  with  fifty  lances  to  the  rescue. 

Even  while  he  was  speaking  with  the  page,  a  loud  blast  on 
a  trumpet  blowing  a  point  of  parley,  as  it  was  termed,  recalled 
him  to  the  bartizan,  and  he  found  there  on  the  esplanade,  with 
a  white  flag  displayed  and  a  trumpeter  at  his  side,  the  Green 
Rider,  who  now  alone  survived  of  the  leaders  of  the  free  com 
panions,  having  succeeded  by  the  death  of  Talebardin  to  the 
chief  command  of  the  band. 

He  now  summoned  the  garrison  in  form,  with  all  the  frank 
ness  and  not  a  little  of  the  courtesy  of  a  soldier  —  it  was  he 
whom  De  Coucy  had  remarked  from  the  first  onslaught  as 
bearing  no  disgraceful  emblems  of  butchery  or  bloodshed,  be 
yond  the  harness  of  a  man-at-arms,  with  the  green  plume  and 
the  cognizance  of  the  white  dragon  on  his  shield,  by  which  he 


THE    PARLEY.  101 

easily  distinguished  him  as  a  Saxon  outlaw,  said  to  be  a  bas 
tard  of  high  descent,  known  far  and  wide  through  France  as 
a  free  rider  by  the  title  of  the  green  esquire,  a  soldier  of  much 
renown  in  the  field,  who  had  never  tainted  his  fair  fame  by 
any  deeds  of  cruelty  or  treason,  and  whose  worst  censure  was 
that  he  had  at  times  associated  with  those  incarnate  fiends, 
Talebard  Talebardin  and  the  Rouge  Batard. 

He  now  addressing  De  Coucy  with  deep  reverence,  and 
something  almost  of  humility  in  his  demeanor,  announced  to 
him  that  he  had  just  received  the  tidings  of  the  approach  of 
Aymerigot  Marcel  with  such  a  reinforcement  of  men-at-arms, 
besides  ladders  and  military  engines,  as  would  place  the  gar 
rison  entirely  at  their  mercy. 

"  He  will  be  here,  my  lord,"  he  continued,  "  before  midnight ; 
and,  believe  me,  he  here,  defence  is  hopeless.  However,  when 
Aymerigot  is  in  the  field,  you  may  have  heard,  beau  sire, 
mercy  is  not  either  to  sex  or  age  —  regard  is  not  to  beauty  or 
to  valor — but  torture  and  violation,  the  rack,  gibbet,  and  the 
firebrand,  to  the  bravest,  and  the  fairest.  Therefore  I  do  be 
seech  you,  noble  sir,  accept  the  terms  of  composition  which  I 
offer  you,  while  I  have  yet  the  power  to  offer  and  you  the 
time  to  profit  by  them.  March  out  in. all  safety  and  honor, 
with  all  your  arms  and  apparel  and  effects,  your  mules  and 
horses,  men  and  maids,  and  the  chatelaine  of  Verneuil,  and  go 
whither  you  will  under  safe  conduct,  leaving  to  us  the  castle 
only  and  the  fixtures.  Go !  only  for  God's  sake  and  the 
lady's !  Go  !  beau  sire  de  Tankarville  !  and  I,  even  I,  free 
companion  though  I  be,  will  bear  witness  to  the  nobleness  of 
your  defence,  to  your  undaunted  valor,  and  untainted  honor !" 

"  And  what  shall  vouch  that  the  safe  conduct  will  be  re 
spected  ?"  replied  the  knight,  with  a  grave  inclination  of  his 
head,  as  if  somewhat  moved  by  the  manner  of  the  green 
rider. 


102  SIR  HUGUES  DE  COUCY. 

"  The  honor  of  an  Englishman,"  replied  the  free  companion, 
raising  his  vizor,  and  showing  the  fair  skin,  blue  eyes,  and 
auburn  hair  of  his  race  ;  "  and  who  shall  question  that  ?" 

"  Not  I,  good  fellow,"  said  the  knight.  "  But  now  mark 
me,  surrender  I  may  not,  nor  march  out  save  with  lance  in  rest 
and  trumpets  sounding,  the  charge  from  any  place  I  have  deter 
mined  to  defend.  But  trust  me,  sir  esquire,  in  guerdon  for  this 
thou  hast  done,  on  mine  honor !  thou  shalt  die  as  a  soldier 
under  shield  by  the  lance  of  De  Coucy,  and  not  as  a  robber  by 
the  hangman  and  the  cord  !" 

"  Grammercy !  for  your  courtesy,  beau  sire,"  answered  the 
other  with  a  smile  that  was  almost  a  sneer — "  and,  in  requital 
of  it,  I  pledge  my  word,  that  you  shall  be  harassed  by  no 
treacherous  night  attack,  but  we  will  fight  it  out  to-morrow 
by  fair  daylight,  with  the  sun  to  look  upon  the  deeds  of  brave 
men,  and  the  free  air  to  bear  their  fame  upward  to  heaven  ;  and 
while  I  breathe,  good  knight,  no  harm  shall  light  upon  your 
chatelaine." 

And  therewith  they  parted,  to  meet  but  once  again,  and  then 
no  more  for  ever. 

All  that  day  and  half  of  the  long  night,  they  toiled  in  the 
court-yard,  knight  and  esquire,  man-at-arms  and  vassal,  squar 
ing  the  mighty  beams  and  hewing  solid  planks,  forging  stout 
chains  and  ponderous  hinges,  till  ere  the  castle  clocks  tolled 
midnight,  a  new  drawbridge  lay  ready  on  the  pavement,  with 
all  prepared  to  raise  it  at  an  instant's  notice. 

Horses  were  fed  and  saddled,  armors  were  polished,  weap 
ons  ground,  torches  and  cressets  were  extinguished,  and  save 
the  count  of  Tankarville  himself,  and  the  warders  on  the  walls, 
all  else  lay  down  to  snatch  an  hour's  repose  before  the  despe 
rate  affray  which  all  foresaw  with  the  coming  dawn. 

He,  with  a  dim  foreboding  of  he  knew  not  what,  prayed 
fervently  before  the  altar  in  the  castle-chapel,  and  made  con- 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  DEFENCE.  103 

fessfon,  although  there  was  no  human  ear  to  listen,  no  human 
lip  to  pronounce  absolution. 

At  one  hour  after  midnight,  the  tramp  of  many  horses,  and 
the  dash  and  clang  of  harness,  announced  the  arrival  of  Ay- 
merigot,  and  half  suspicious  of  treason,  the  knight  aroused  his 
garrison,  got  them  under  arms  silently  and  in  darkness. 

But  for  once  the  routiers  kept  faith — the  din  ceased  in  the 
encampment,  the  lights  went  out  one  by  one,  and  silence  of 
dewy  night  fell  over  tent  and  bivouac  as  peacefully  as  if  the 
deadliest  of  foes  were  not  almost  arrayed  beneath  it  face  to 
face. 

An  hour  later,  the  Tankarville  himself  dismissed  the  page 
of  Floris,  as  he  had  come,  by  the  postern,  with  instructions  to 
bring  up  his  lord  with  his  lances  on  the  rear  of  the  free  com 
panions,  as  soon  as  might  be.  Then  with  the  aid  of  his  best 
men,  the  great  gates  were  opened  silently,  the  new  chains  rove 
through  the  iron  pulleys  and  hooked  to  the  outer  end  of  the 
pont-levis,  which  was  slowly  and  guardedly  thrust  forward,  un 
til  the  hinges  fell  into  their  sockets,  the  huge  bolts  were  driven 
in,  and  the  bridge,  hauled  up  to  its  supports,  stood  as  if  by 
magic,  even  as  it  had  stood  the  previous  morning,  when  it  ad 
mitted  the  brave  train  of  Tankarville. 

The  night  passed  speedily,  and  the  gray  dawn  was  nigh, 
and  the  watchwords  and  orders  of  the  freebooters  arming  in 
their  huts  came  to  the  ears  of  the  garrison,  but  came  winged 
with  no  terrors,  for  in  the  dim,  dewy  twilight  they  might  dis 
cern  a  lance  with  the  pennoncelle  of  Floris  pitched  in  the 
ground  before  the  postern,  telling  of  aid  at  hand. 

The  vassals  and  the  half-armed  serving-men  mustered  upon 
the  ramparts,  but  in  the  court-yard  champed  and  pawed  twelve 
powerful  war-horses,  backed  by  twelve  champions  all  in  steel, 
with  De  Coucy  at  the  head,  his  broad  banner  displayed,  and 
his  lance-points  erected  —  while  four  stout  grooms  manned  the 


104  SIR    HUGUES    DE    COUCY. 

chains  of  the  pont-levis,  and  stood  to  the  bars  of  the  great 
gate. 

The  sun  rose,  and  with  a  wild,  discordant  yell,  and  the  bar 
barous  blast  of  horns  and  bugles,  the  free  companions  formed 
for  the  assault,  some  bearing  ladders,  others  mantelets  and 
pavesses,  and  covered  by  a  cloud  of  archers. 

Up  went  the  banners  of  Verneuil  and  Floris,  and  awoke  the 
din  of  the  tocsin,  the  deep  roar  of  the  kettledrums,  and  the  clear 
flourish  of  the  Norman  trumpets,  seeming  to  defy  earth  and 
heaven. 

Then,  bearing  terror  to  the  souls  of  the  routiers,  another 
Norman  trumpet  answered,  and  a  tremendous  shout  arouse  — 
"  Floris  for  Verneuil !  Floris  to  the  rescue  !" 

Down  went  the  drawbridge  in  their  front,  and  forth,  lance  in 
rest,  banner  displayed,  and  trumpet  sounding  to  the  charge, 
forth  came  De  Coucy  and  his  men  —  "  St.  Paul !  St.  Paul !" — 
while  down  the  pine  hills,  in  their  rear,  poured  the  fresh 
lances  of  De  Floris. 

Aymerigot  wheeled  with  his  own  band  to  meet  the  lord  of 
Verneuil ;  the  green  esquire  charged  his  lance  gallantly  and 
well,  and  met  De  Coucy  fair  in  full  career.  His  lance  caught 
in  the  bars  of  De  Coucy's  casque  unhelmed  him,  but  the 
knight's  spear-point  struck  the  free-rider's  shield  on  the  chief, 
bored  through  shield,  plastron,  and  cuirass,  and  breaking  in 
his  bosom,  hurled  him  dead  to  the  earth.  But  the  Coucy's 
charger,  wearied  and  overdone,  went  down  untouched,  and 
rolling  over  its  lord's  right  thigh,  pinned  him  to  the  ground, 
that  he  could  not  arise,  and  the  next  moment  Aymerigot  and 
his  party,  unable  to  endure  the  shock  of  the  lances  of  Verneuil, 
passed  over  him  in  disarray  and  disorder,  the  brigand  chief 
bringing  up  the  rear. 

But,  as  he  passed,  his  eye  fell  upon  the  dismounted  champion, 
and  swinging  histwo-handed  sword  on  high,  he  cut  him  down 


DEATH    UNDER    SHIELD.  105 

with  a  ghastly  blow,  shearing  his  left  shoulder,  through  plate 
and  mail,  almost  asunder. 

They  bore  him  into  the  castle,  into  the  presence  of  the  lady 
he  had  so  long  and  fondly  loved — he  had  so  nobly  rescued. 
They  unhelmed  him — he  was  pale,  speechless  ;  but  his  eye 
was  as  bright  as  ever — his  senses  had  not  wavered.  She 
recognised  him  —  fell  fainting  on  his  bosom — her  right  hand 
clasped  in  his  cold  fingers,  her  lips  pressed  to  his  own  in  a 
last,  chaste,  permitted  kiss,  the  crucifix  of  his  God  before  his 
glazing  eyes,  under  shield,  in  steel  harness,  nobly,  happily, 
his  great  soul  passed  away!  — 

He  had  feared  God,  loved  his  lady,  held  honor  ever  in  his 
eye  —  and  without  a  taint  on  his  fame — pure  lover,  loyal  noble, 
gallant  knight — he  went  fearless  and  faithful  to  his  last  ac 
count. 

Honor  to  the  brave  ! — rest  to  the  ashes  !  Pray  for  the  soul 
of  De  Coucy ! 


EUSTACHE    DE   SAINT   PIERRE; 

(Or,  tjp  Irorator  nf 


NIGHT  fell  on  the  beleagured  walls  of  Calays ;  but,  with 
night,  there  came  to  that  sad  city,  none  of  those  sweet  ac 
companiments  none  of  those  happy  gatherings  to  the  domestic 
hearth,  none  of  that  cessation  from  the  toils  and  sorrows  of 
the  by-gone  day,  which,  even  under  the  ordinary  circumstan 
ces  of  human  wo,  render  the  hours  of  darkness  a  season  of 
consolation  at  least,  if  not  of  absolute  enjoyment. 

A  gaunt  and  famished  multitude,  of  every  age  and  rank, 
crowded  the  narrow  streets,  hurrying,  they  knew  not  to  what 
end  or  whither,  from  place  to  place,  in  the  last  stage  of  des 
perate  misery.  Torches  and  cressets  flashed  upon  knightly 
crests,  and  burnished  mail ;  but  from  beneath  the  lifted  vizors 
there  glared  forth  countenances  so  corpse-like,  eyes  so  glazed 
and  sunken,  that  one  would  have  deemed  the  wearers  incapa 
ble  of  supporting  the  weight  of  their  steel  harness.  And,  in 
truth,  so  miserably  depressed  were  the  hearts  of  those  brave 
men,  so  utterly  were  their  spirits  prostrated  by  protracted  suf 
ferings  and  hope  deferred,  that  warriors  who  might,  a  few 
short  weeks  before,  have  been  intrusted  to  do  battle  for  a 


108  EUSTACHE    DE    SAINT    PIERRE. 

crown,  could  now  have  been  stricken  to  the  earth  by  a  wil 
low  wand  in  the  hands  of  a  stripling.  Ladies  were  there,  of 
high  degree,  in  whose  pale  cheeks  and  squalid  dress  no  human 
eye  could  recognise  the  glorious  beauties,  for  which  a  hundred 
lances  had  been  splintered.  Princes  and  paladins  mingled 
and  confused  with  the  veriest  outcasts  of  society,  all  levelled 
by  common  calamity  to  a  common  humiliation.  On  the  pre 
ceding  morning  they  had  looked,  from  their  ramparts,  upon  the 
camp  of  their  relentless  foe  ;  they  had  seen  his  sturdy  archers 
revelling  in  abundance,  his  knights  curbing  their  pampered 
steeds  in  proud  defiance  beneath  the  very  barriers  of  the  town ; 
they  had  seen  his  triumphant  navy  riding  before  their  harbor 

—  they  had  turned  their  eyes  into  their  own  blockaded  streets, 
and  witnessed  sights,  that  might  have  shaken  the  constancy  of 
earth's  haughtiest  spirits — they  had  hung  over  the  wives  of 
their  bosoms,  the  babes  of  their  affections,  perishing  as  it  were 
piecemeal  by  the  most  agonizing  of  deaths ;  they  had  seen  the 
dogs  slaughtered  for  food,  they  had  beheld  the  last  drop  drained 
from  their  casks,  the  last  handful  of  meal  wane  in  their  coffers, 
yet  they  had  still  a  hope.     So  long  as  they  could  see   the 
countless  myriads  of  their  countrymen  marshalled  upon  the 
distant  height  of  Sandgate,  their  thousand  banners  flaunting  in 
the  sunshine,  they  could  not  dream  that  they  should  be  aban 
doned,  without  a  blow  stricken  or  a  lance  broken,  to  the  mer 
ciless  wrath  of  England's  Edward.      But  when  the  evening 
sun  had  sunk  upon  that  vast  array,  slowly  retiring  from  the  hills 
it  had  occupied  so  long  in  empty  circumstance  of  war,  their 
hearts  sunk  to  the  dust  in  consciousness  of  utter  destitution. 
It  was  in  vain  that  John  de  Vienne,  than  whom  no  better 
knight  had  ever  spurred  a  horse  to  battle,  essayed  to  allay  the 
tumultuous  terrors  of  the  populace.     Dread  and  despair  had 
goaded  them  to  madness.     Subordination  was  at  an  end,  and, 

—  as  if  that  miserable  town  had  not  endured  enough  by  the 


THE    BELEAGUERED    CITY.  109 

sword  of  the  foe,  and  the  yet  more  destructive  agents  of  pesti 
lence  and  famine  —  tumult  and  rapine  were  about  to  wreak 
the  remnant  of  that  once  proud  community.  All  the  livelong 
night  had  the  din  of  arms,  fearfully  mingled  with  the  wild 
shrieks  of  women,  the  deep  roar  of  the  rioters,  the  groans  of 
the  sick  and  dying,  struck  terror  and  compassion  to  the  hearts 
of  the  besiegers.  But  even  such  a  night  as  that  must  pass 
away  at  length,  although  its  moments  may  seem  multiplied  to 
ages.  The  first  streaks  of  dawn  were  scarcely  creeping  over 
the  horizon,  when  a  trumpet  rang  from  the  walls  in  the  pro 
longed  flourish  of  a  parley,  and  the  English  watchers  could 
descry,  through  the  mists  of  morning,  a  knightly  crest  nod 
ding  above  the  solitary  figure  upon  the  ballium.  The  word 
passed  rapidly  from  post  to  post,  and  ere  it  could  have  been 
deemed  practicable,  Sir  Walter  Manny  reined  in  his  panting 
charger  beneath  the  frowning  gateway.  Between  men  actu 
ated  by  the  same  high  and  gentle  spirit,  although  arrayed  under 
hostile  banners,  few  words  sufficed.  The  noble  heart  of  the 
English  knight  had  long  bled  within  him  at  the  sufferings  of 
his  hereditary  foemen,  and  it  needed  but  a  word  from  John  de 
Vienne,  to  interest  him  to  the  utmost  in  behalf  of  the  belea 
guered  citizens.  Promising  his  utmost  services  with  his  war 
like  king,  he  bowed  till  his  plumes  were  mingled  with  the 
charger's  mane,  then  stirring  the  courage  of  the  noble  brute 
with  the  spur,  he  dashed  away  upon  his  errand  of  mercy,  the 
pebbles  spurned  high  into  air  at  every  hoof-tramp,  and  his  steel 
harness  glancing  like  gold  in  the  beams  of  the  newly-risen  sun. 
"  God  speed  thee,  gallant  Manny" — cried  his  admiring  ene 
my  as  he  turned  from  the  walls  — "  God  speed  thee  and  pity 
us.  But  if  I  know  the  heart  of  Edward,  thou  ridest  but  in 
vain  !"  An  hour  had  not  elapsed,  before  the  gloomy  forebodings 
of  De  Yienne  were  realized  by  the  return  of  the  Island  noble. 
Long  before  he  came  within  reach  of  voice  could  the  French- 


110  EUSTACHE    DE    SAINT    PIERRE. 

man  read  the  purport  of  his  mission  in  the  demeanor  of  the 
messenger.  The  first  words  of  Sir  Walter  confirmed  his 
darkest  apprehensions. 

"  I  bring  thee  terms" — he  said — "noble  de  Vienne  —  but 
terms,  alas !  such  as  it  grieves  me  to  report  to  such  a  knight  as 
thee.  Our  monarch  is  a  gracious,  and  a  brave — but  we  have 
worked  him  such  despite  and  damage  here  before  these  walls 
of  Calays,  that  by  the  Holy  Paul,  he  hath  been  dangerous  this 
seven  nights  past  to  all  around  him.  Right  hardly  have  we 
striven  with  him  to  win  for  ye  small  favor.  Ye  must — now, 
by  St.  Paul,  full  sooner  would  I  run  three  courses  against  e'er 
a  knight  in  Christendom,  with  grinded  spear,  than  be  the  bearer 
of  such  foul  conditions — ye  must  choose  out  six  of  your  no 
blest  citizens,  to  bear  the  keys  bareheaded  and  barefooted,  to 
his  tent,  each  in  his  shirt  alone,  with  a  hempen  halter  round 
his  neck.  So  shall  he  take  ye  to  his  mercy,  and  a  short  shift- 
to  the  bearers !" — 

For  a  moment  the  head  of  De  Vienne  sunk  upon  his  polish 
ed  corslet,  and  he  wrung  his  gauntleted  hands  till  the  blood 
oozed  through  the  crevices  of  his  mail. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said  at  length,  in  a  suppressed  tone,  "  all 
thanks  to  thee,  Sir  Walter,  for  thy  good  aid,  although  it  hath 
availed  us  little.  But  tarry,  till  I  bear  these  tidings  to  the  men 
of  Calays."  Without  another  syllable,  he  turned  abruptly  from 
the  walls,  forgetting  in  the  bitterness  of  his  spirit,  those  chiv 
alrous  courtesies,  which  relieved  with  so  fair  a  contrast,  the 
darkness  of  that  iron  age.  *~; 

It  was  with  an  anxious  eye,  and  a  brow  of  gloom  that  he 
forced  his  way  through  the  dense  multitude  to  the  steps  of  the 
market-house,  and  there,  after  a  few  brief  words  with  the  as 
tounded  magistrates,  during  which  the  common  bell  rang  back 
ward —  addressed  the  assembled  thousands,  in  a  voice  as  calm 
and  clear,  as  though  he  spoke  of  matters  of  light  or  pleasing 


THE    BITTER    ALTERNATIVE.  Ill 

import.  A  shiver  ran  through  the  concourse,  as  he  began  —  a 
hum  of  intense  excitement  —  and  then  the  falling  of  a  feather 
might  have  been  heard  in  a  deep  hush  of  feeling  that  ensued. 

"  Brethren,  and  men  of  Calays,"  he  began,  "  I  bear  ye  terms 
from  England  —  bitter  they  are  and  evil  terms,  but  ye  will  have 
none  others  ;  advise  ye,  therefore,  and  make  a  brief  response, 
and  above  all  things,  bestir  not  yourselves  to  any  wrath  or  folly  ; 
for  it  may  avail  ye  naught." 

"The  terms — the  terms — tell  us  the  terms,"  burst  like  the 
roar  of  a  cataract  from  ten  thousand  mouths  at  once. 

"  Ye  shall  choose  out  six,"  he  continued,  "  six  of  your  num 
ber,  the  noblest  and  the  best  men  of  the  city,  and  send  them 
forth  to  Edward,  that  he  may  hang  them  up  and  pardon  ye  !" 

Now  did  such  a  yell  of  execration  and  despair  go  up  to  the 
offended  skies,  as  pealed  through  that  multitude,  on  the  terrible 
announcement.  Cries  of  vengeance  on  the  head  of  De  Vienne 
himself,  were  mingled  with  bitter  curses  on  the  British  tyrant, 
and  on  the  heartless  monarch,  who  had  abandoned  them  to  such 
a  fate  ;  while  the  wailings  of  women  and  children  formed  a 
terrible  accompaniment  to  the  hoarser  cries  of  the  men.  Arms 
were  again  grasped,  and  torches  kindled.  "  Better  to  die,"  was 
the  clamor,  "better  to  die  amidst  our  blazing  houses  —  better 
to  die,  with  those  we  love  about  us,  than  to  live  on  -terms  like 
these  !"  The  riot  was  spreading  fearfully,  and  in  another  in 
stant  blood  would  have  been  shed  by  kindred  hands,  and  Cal 
ays  been  a  prototype  of  Moscow ;  when  a  noble-looking  man, 
with  a  broad,  high  brow,  a  glance  like  that  of  a  Narroway  fal 
con,  and  a  port  as  stately  as  that  of  the  steel-clad  baron,  by 
whose  side  he  stood,  calmly  uncovered  his  head,  and  with  a 
mute  appeal  of  hand  and  eye  to  the  infuriated  mob,  restored 
tranquillity  on  the  moment.  "  Eustache  de  Saint  Pierre,"  was 
the  cry,  "  Hear  him — the  father  of  the  commons  —  hear  Eus 
tache  de  Saint  Pierre  !"  and  again  the  place  was  still  as  death. 


112  EUSTACHE    DE    SAINT    PIERRE. 

"  My  friends  and  fellow  countrymen,"  he  said,  "  I  thank  ye 
for  your  courtesy,  and,  if  it  please  our  lady,  that  courtesy  shall 
be  requited.  Great  sin  it  were  and  shame,  that  such  a  noble 
people,  as  be  now  within  these  walls,  should  perish,  when 
there  be  means  to  save  them !  My  brothers,  I  believe  that 
any  man  shall  have  great  mercy  at  the  hands  of  our  Lord  God, 
who  should  save  this  people.  Fearlessly  therefore  and  confi 
dently,  have  I  this  trust  in  him,  that  he  will  be  merciful  unto 
me,  as  I  shall  jeopard  my  life  for  you.  I  Eustache  de  Saint 
Pierre  will  be  the  first  to  die  for  Calays." 

Strange  was  the  revulsion  produced  upon  the  minds  of  men 
by  his  magnanimous  devotion.  Eyes,  stony  eyes,  that  had 
never  wept  before,  gushed  out  in  torrents.  Haughty  nobles, 
contemners  of  all  save  men  of  action,  bowed  themselves  in  the 
dust  before  him ;  and  the  silver  tones  of  women  were  heard, 
with  the  faint  trill  of  infant  voices  invoking  blessings  on  their 
preserver.  Nor  was  so  noble  an  example  lost  —  five  other 
burgesses  stepped  forth  at  once,  to  go  to  their  deaths,  as  it  were 
to  a  banquet.  They  threw  their  rich  garbs  of  velvet  on  the 
earth ;  bareheaded  and  barefooted,  with  halters  about  their 
necks,  they  threaded  the  crowded  streets,  men  pressing  around 
to  grasp  their  hands,  matrons  clinging  to  their  knees,  and  vir 
gins  showering  pure  kisses  on  their  brows.  The  heart  of  De 
Vienne  choked,  as  it  were,  the  passage  of  his  voice,  and  he 
scarcely  faltered  forth  his  prayers  to  Manny  for  his  interces 
sion  with  the  king. 

Slowly  they  passed  the  gate,  but  not  a  shade  of  fear  or  of 
regret  clouded  the  glorious  tranquillity  of  their  features.  Had 
they  required  aught  to  nerve  their  breasts,  the  sympathy  of 
friend  and  foe  alike  might  well  have  supported  their  extremity. 
For  the  island  archers  crowded  with  no  less  veneration  around 
them,  than  had  done  their  grateful  countrymen.  Earls  veiled 
their  high-plumed  helmets  as  the  burghers  passed  ;  kind  words, 


THE    OFFERED    SACRIFICE.  113 

and  cheering  looks  met.  them  on  every  side.  Men  never  went 
to  die  surrounded  by  such  tokens  of  admiration  and  applause. 

But  Eustache  and  his  companions  felt  no  base  shrinking 
from  their  doom  —  needed  no  consolation!  They  stood  before 
the  throne  of  their  revengeful  judge,  as  calmly  as  they  hoped 
to  stand  ere  long  before  the  tribunal  of  a  far  mightier  king  and 
arbiter.  The  heart  of  the  English  monarch  was  naturally  kind 
and  generous,  but  he  had  lashed  himself  into  unwonted  fury, 
his  eyes  glared,  the  foam  actually  flew  from  his  lips,  and  his 
whole  frame  shook  with  the  excitement  of  rage.  "What,  ho  !' 
he  shouted,  hearing  not,  nor  heeding  their  dignified  but  humble 
petition  for  grace.  "  What,  ho  !  our  provost-marshal  —  Hence 
with  the  traitors  to  the  block !" 

"  For  the  love  of  Heaven,  sire,"  cried  the  gallant  Manny, 
"  pardon !  pardon  these  noble-minded  men  !" 

"  For  your  own  fame,  my  gracious  master,  for  the  honor  of 
our  country,  for  the  name  of  England,  spare  them  !"  exclaimed 
Derby  ;  nor  were  these  two  the  only  petitions  ;  the  most  distin 
guished  warriors,  the  holiest  prelates,  the  proudest  peers  of  his 
realm,  crowded  around  his  footstool,  but  in  vain. 

"Ha!  my  lord  —  fie!"  cried  he,  gnashing  his  teeth,  "  shame 
ye  not,  lords  and  knights,  to  make  this  coil  for  the  vile  puddle 
that  stagnates  in  the  veins  of  bas«  mechanics  ?  Vex  me  no 
further,  lords  !  For  by  St.  George  I  will  not  dine  this  day,  till 
these  have  rued  their  treason !  'Sdeath,"  he  shouted  in  yet 
fiercer  tones,  "  am  I  not  your  king  ?  Silence  !  For  shame  !" 
and  without  another  glance  toward  the  undaunted  burghers,  he 
motioned  sternly  to  the  door  of  the  tent,  "  Away  with  them ! 
Away !" 

There  was  not  a  brow,  in  that  gallant  circle,  that  was  not 
clouded,  not  a  lip  but  quivered  with  vexation,  as  the  reluctant 
guards  prepared  to  lead  them  out ;  but  at  this  awful  moment  a 
female  form,  of  rare  beauty,  rushed  hastily  into  the  apartment ; 


114  EUSTACHE    DE    SAINT    PIERRE. 

her  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  and  her  hands  clasped  in  silent 
supplication. 

It  was  Philippa,  his  noble-minded,  his  adored  wife  —  Phil- 
ippa  the  woman-conqueror  of  Neville's  cross  —  Philippa  the 
mother  of  his  son  as  yet  unborn.  She  threw  herself  prostrate 
at  his  footstool,  pale,  not  from  agitation  only,  but  from  the  weak 
ness  of  her  interesting  situation,  yet  never  did  a  lovelier,  or  a 
sweeter  form  bow  at  the  foot  of  man,  to  bend  his  stubborn  heart 
to  deeds  of  mercy. 

"  Dear  sir,  and  gentle  husband,"  she  exclaimed,  "  to  do  you 
pleasure,  in  great  peril  have  I  crossed  the  sea ;  never  have  I 
at  any  time  desired  any  boon  or  favor  at  your  hand  ;  but  now, 
deny  me  not,  most  noble  king  and  husband,  in  honor  of  the  Son 
of  the  Virgin  Mary,  I  beseech  you,  for  the  love  of  me,  and  for 
the  love  of  thy  child,  which  is  unborn,  I  do  beseech  thee  to 
take  mercy  of  these  unhappy  men !" 

For  ten  minutes'  space  did  Edward  gaze  in  silence,  motion 
less,  and  stern,  upon  that  lovely  form,  and  upon  those  beaming 
features,  eloquent  with  love  and  pity.  At  length  his  brow 
slightly  relaxed,  yet  there  was  no  softness  in  his  eye,  or  tone, 
as  he  replied. 

"  Ha !  gentle  dame  !  I  would  you  had  been  as  now  in  any 
other  place.  Yet  have  )*)u  offered  such  a  prayer  to  me  as  I 
may  not  deny  you.  Now  have  it  as  you  will — do  with  these 
men  as  is  your  pleasure — but  let  me  see  their  countenances 
never  more." 

Hastily,  and  as  if  doubtful  of  his  own  resolution,  he  flung 
from  the  tent,  and,  ere  a  moment  had  elapsed,  was  heard  shout 
ing  to  horse,  and  dashing  away  at  a  furious  gallop;  as  if  to 
give  vent  to  his  passion  at  being  thus  compelled  to  forego  a 
deed,  which  executed  would  have  stamped  one  of  the  brightest 
names  of  English  story  with  the  brand  of  deathless  infamy. 


THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC; 

a  Ittfratitira  IrgBtii  nf  tlj?  digits!;  $to  in 


CHAPTER    I. 

INTRODUCTORY:  —  ON  THE  HISTORY  AND  CHARACTER  OF  THE 
MAID  OF  ORLEANS. 

IT  is  not  within  the  compass  of  argument  to  maintain  that 
the  progress  of  society,  the  advance  of  civilization,  and  the 
growth  of  science,  have  not,  in  some  degree,  affected  and  even 
altered  the  standards,  by  which  men  judge  of  thoughts,  prin 
ciples,  and  actions,  as  praiseworthy  or  culpable — nay!  in  the 
abstract,  as  virtuous  or  vicious.  So,  if  I  be  not  in  error,  it  is 
perfectly  possible  and  consistent  that,  in  two  different  periods 
of  the  world,  two  different  constitutions  of  society,  the  very 
same  line  of  conduct  in  man  or  woman  should  call  forth  the 
highest  admiration,  and  acquire  deathless  fame,  or  awaken 
criticism  only,  and  be  judged  dubious,  at  the  least,  if  not  dis 
graceful. 

I  might  instance  the  recorded  hardihood  of  Spartan  mothers, 
inaccessible  to  the  slightest  touch  of  womanly  or  motherly 


116  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

feeling,  a  hardihood  which  it  is  still  the  fashion  to  laud  in 
Fourth-of-July  orations  as  the  beau-ideal  of  patriotism,  hero 
ism,  and  a  genuine  love  of  freedom,  whereas  it  was  in  truth  no 
more  than  the  cold  and  stupid  insensibility  of  minds  unrefined 
by  civilization,  unswerved  by  sentiment,  and  unsoftened  by  any 
of  those  redeeming  graces,  which  it  is  said,  even  among  the 
most  barbarous  and  savage  hordes,  are  observed  to  relieve  the 
primitive  ruggedness  of  nature  in  the  softer  sex — a  hardihood, 
which,  were  it  now  affected  or  put  on  by  maiden,  wife  or 
mother  of  our  race,  would  consign  her  to  endless  scorn  and 
loathing,  as  a  woman  deprived  of  the  best  attribute  of  woman 
hood,  and  differing  only  from  the  lost  and  lowest  of  her  sex  as 
inferior  to  them  in  the  want  of  that  "  one  touch  of  nature," 
which,  in  the  words  of  the  great  English  dramatist,  "  makes 
the  whole  world  kin." 

In  the  like  manner,  I  might  adduce  the  practice  —  for, 
among  the  ancients,  before  the  Christian  era,  it  was  a  practice, 
and  a  time-honored  practice,  too,  among  the  wisest  and  the 
best  of  men  —  of  deliberate  and  long-premeditated  suicide. 
For  in  those  days,  not  to  die  by  his  own  hand,  for  one  guilt 
lessly  sentenced  to  the  hand  of  the  executioner,  or  fallen  into 
the  power  of  unrelenting  enemies,  was  certainly  regarded  as 
an  .  act  of  cowardice  and  dishonor ;  while  self-murder,  in  a 
similar  state  of  circumstances,  was  held  an  added  title  to  the 
immortal  honor  of  the  sage,  the  patriot,  or  the  unsuccessful 
hero. 

At  a  much  later  period  to  decline  the  arbitration  of  the 
sword  in  quarrels  of  a  private  and  social  nature,  and,  whether 
in  the  case  of  receiving  a  wrong  at  the  hands  of  another,  or 
inflicting  it  at  his  own,  to  deny  the  appeal  to  single  combat, 
was  sufficient,  nay !  in  some  countries,  to  this  very  hour,  is 
sufficient,  to  deprive  the  highest  member  of  society  of  all  claim 
to  social  position,  to  stigmatize  him  as  a  poltroon  and  bauish 


FEMALE    HEROISM.  117 

him,  deprived  of  caste  for  ever,  from  the  companionship  of  men 
of  honor ;  whereas,  it  is  now  the  cry  of  that  popular  voice, 
which  some  infatuated  Roman  once  defined  as  being  the  voice 
of  God,  that  to  endure  obloquy,  calumny,  insult,  nay !  but 
blows  without  resenting  them,  is  the  best  proof  of  manhood, 
of  gentlemanly  bearing,  and  of  a  clear  and  correct  sense  of 
honor. 

Without  entertaining  the  slightest  idea  of  entering  into  the 
discussion  of  any  one  of  these  vexed  and  disputed  questions, 
I  have  thought  it  well  to  dwell  something  at  length  upon  the 
alteration  of  popular  sentiment  in  these  foregoing  questions, 
the  rather  that  in  the  very  person  of  the  heroine  whom  I  have 
selected  as  the  subject  of  the  following  romance,  we  have  an 
instance  directly  in  point  —  an  instance  of  conduct  on  the  part 
of  a  young  woman,  which,  occurring  as  it  did,  in  the  early  part 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  I  can  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  the  off 
spring  of  genuine  patriotism,  of  genuine  heroism,  and  absolved, 
in  consequence  of  the  mode  of  thinking  arid  acting  in  those 
days,  from  any  censure  of  indecorum  or  want  of  those  feminine 
attributes,  to  which  everything  else  is  now,  and  most  justly, 
held  subservient. 

I  am  the  more  especially  called  upon  to  note  this  discrep 
ance,  as  I  might  otherwise  myself  fall  under  the  charge  of  in 
consistency,  since  in  many  recent  papers,  I  have  taken  occa 
sion  to  express  my  abhorrence  and  loathing  of  those  women, 
who,  in  an  age  of  gentleness,  civilization,  refinement,  and  a 
thorough  apportionment  of  their  appropriate  rights,  duties,  and 
tasks,  to  the  two  sexes,  have  chosen,  in  defiance  of  the  laws 
of  nature,  the  modesty  of  nature,  and  the  wholesome  prescrip 
tions  of  society,  and  in  obedience  to  a  morbid  love  of  excitement, 
or  masculine  lust  for  power  and  fame,  to  undertake  the  parts, 
unsolicited  and  uncalled  for  by  anything  of  duty  or  of  station, 
of  propagandists,  conspirators,  patriots,  and  statesmen ;  and 


118  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

have  actually  so  far  forgotten  themselves  as  to  don,  not  figura 
tively,  but  actually,  the  breeches,  to  become  colonels  of  dra 
goons,  and  to  fight  hand  in  hand  among  the  shock  of  martial 
gladiators.  Of  a  truth  !  little  as  I  can  sympathize  with  the 
executioners,  the  scourgers,  as  it  is  alleged,  of  women,  quite 
as  little  can  I  feel  for  the  scourged,  who,  according  to  my 
judgment,  having  made  their  election,  were  bound  to  abide  by 
the  consequences,  and  having  adopted  the  duties  of  manhood 
had  no  right  to  complain  of  finding  that  they  had  thereby  in 
curred  the  responsibilities  of  manhood  also. 

It  is  to  her  gentleness,  to  her  weakness,  and  to  her  alleged 
incapacity  to  contend  with  man  in  braving  the  shocks  of  the 
world,  the  inclemency  of  seasons,  the  severity  of  toils,  and 
more  especially  the  brunt  of  battle,  that  woman  is  entitled  to 
the  protection,  the  reverence,  and  even  when  perverse  and 
reprobate,  to  the  pitiful  clemency  and  considerate  tolerance  of 
man.  The  moment  she  assumes  an  equality  of  mental  hard 
ness,  of  physical  robustness,  or  of  active  hardihood  and  daring, 
she  forfeits  the  indulgences  willingly  conceded  to  the  implied 
weakness  of  her  feminine  organization,  and  having  deliberately 
unsexed  herself,  may  properly  and  most  righteously  be  judged 
as  one  of  those  among  whom  she  has  chosen  to  enroll  herself, 
not  as  one  of  those  whom  she  has  deserted,  in  defiance  of 
every  principle  of  decorum,  decency,  or  nature. 

An  effeminate  and  effete,  and  unsexed  man,  the  Hercules 
degraded  into  a  willing  Omphale,  has  at  all  times  been  re 
garded  with  scorn,  abhorrence,  and  that  disgust  which  is  felt 
for  reptiles  beyond  and  below  the  attributes  of  nature.  Men 
shrink  from  him  with  plainly-discovered  loathing,  and  true 
women  shake  the  contamination  of  his  vile  presence  from  the 
very  skirts  of  their  raiment. 

Why  is  it,  then  ?  why  should  it  be  ?  How  can  it  be  ?  —  for 
it  is,  alas ! — it  is  even  among  ourselves  that  the  loud-tongued 


AN    IMPROPER    SPHERE    FOR    WOMAN.  119 

viragoes,  the  sword-drawing  termagants,  who,  ashamed  of 
their  highest  attributes,  the  delicate  sensibilities,  the  finer  or 
ganization,  the  more  perfect  perceptions,  purer  motives,  holier 
aspirations,  and  more  admirable  powers  of  their  own  sex,  who 
in  love  with  the  brute  force,  the  fierce  ambition,  the  fiery  ex 
citement  peculiar  to  us, 

"Pagod  things  of  sabre  way, 
With  fronts  of  brass  and  feet  of  clay" — 

who  forgetful  of  all  modesty,  propriety,  decorum,  nature,  unsex 
themselves  even  to  the  putting  on  not  the  garb  only,  but  the 
feelings  of  the  gladiator,  looking  on  death  with  wolfish  eyes, 
nay !  dealing  death  with  gory  hands.  How  can  it  be  that 
these,  and  such  as  these,  can  meet  with  sympathy,  nay !  but 
with  raptures  of  applause,  triumphs  of  adulation,  not  from  the 
men  alone — though  that  were  bad  enough  —  but  from  the 
women — the  sensitive,  the  delicate,  the  feminine — would  that 
we  could  add,  the  true-hearted  women  of  America. 

Even  in  men,  and  with  a  good  cause  to  boot,  heroism  of  the 
battle-field,  is  it  not  a  bloody  and  a  beastly  business?  and  if  the 
state  of  society  may  not  dispense  with  it,  nor  the  constitution 
of  the  human  heart  deny  its  thrill  of  admiring  sympathy  to  the 
brave  man,  the  strength  and  daring  of  whose  spirit  conquers  the 
weakness  of  his  flesh,  and  in  whom  the  love  of  country  or  of 
glory  is  greater  than  the  fear  of  death  —  in  Heaven's  high 
name,  let  us  at  least  limit  the  license  of  the  sword  to  the  male 
hero,  and  doom  the  woman  who  betakes  herself  to  so  bloody 
work  to  a  sentence  as  disgraceful  as  that  which  in  the  male 
attaches  to  the  coward.  It  were  a  just  doom,  sanctioned  by 
nature  and  analogy  —  for  each  is  alike  guilty  of  unfitness  to 
rational  duties,  of  rebellion  against  the  veriest  law  of  nature  — 
and  here  the  woman  is  the  worst  sinner,  as  offences  of  com 
mission  must  needs  be  heavier  than  those  of  omission,  and  as 


120  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

wilfulness  is  at  all  times  less  the  subject  of  pity  than  weak 
ness  which  can  not  always  be  controlled. 

But,  as  I  have  before  remarked,  there  have  been  ages  of 
the  world  in  which  the  generally-received  opinions  concerning 
duties,  obligations,  and  the  appropriate  functions  and  fitnesses 
of  the  sexes  have  been  so  different  from  those  which  now  ex 
ist,  that  the  historian  of  modern  days  is  bound  to  judge  of  the 
actions  and  principles,  the  characters  and  conduct  of  the  great 
and  good,  as  well  as  of  the  base  and  bad,  in  accordance  with 
the  lights  which  they  possessed  and  the  views  which  these 
obtained,  not  as  if  they  had  occurred  under  the  clearer  blaze 
of  recent  knowledge,  or  under  the  better-ordered  standards  of 
Or  wiser  and  more  decorous  society.  So  that  many  deeds  may 
have  been  done,  nay !  have  been  done  in  the  troublous  times 
of  the  middle  ages,  which  we  must  admire,  must  elaborate, 
must  hold  aloft,  as  examples  of  splendid  heroism ;  though  they 
would  now-a-days  be  stigmatized  with  propriety  as  indecorous, 
and  as  indicative  of  feeling  and  impulses  which  must  be  re 
garded  as  anything  rather  than  honorable.  And  again,  many 
deeds,  which  would  now  be  recorded,  with  execrations  on  the 
heads  of  the  perpetrators,  as  prodigies  of  cruelty  and  honor, 
must  be  narrated  as  lamentable  instances  of  the  ignorance  and 
semi-barbarism  of  general  society  at  that  period,  but  by  no 
means  as  examples  of  unusual  or  peculiar  ferocity,  or  insensi 
bility,  or  ignorance  of  the  individual.  Of  the  former  class  are 
many  of  the  most  highly-lauded  warlike  exploits  of  the  middle 
ages,  many  of  which  are  tinctured  with  a  degree  of  hardness, 
ruthlessness,  insensibility,  and  love  of  battle,  if  not  of  blood 
shed,  which  would  be  pronounced  in  the  nineteenth  century  as 
purely  detestable.  High-bred  and  gentle  women  looked  upon 
strife  and  slaughter,  not  with  dismay  and  loathing,  but  with 
applause  and  admiration,  and  rewarded  the  most  blood-stained 
homicide  with  renown  and  love.  The  dearest  ties  of  affection 


IGNORANCE    AND    BARBARISM     OF    FORMER    AGES.  121 

were  broken  on  trivial  points  of  honor.  Insensibility  to  the 
death  of  children,  parents,  wives,  nay,  the  sacrifice  of  near 
kinsmen  to  small  points  of  chivalry,  were  held  claims  for  hon 
orable  note  and  fame  of  patriotic  heroism.  Quarter  was  rarely 
given  on  the  field  of  battle  until  the  victors  were  weary  and 
worn  out  with  slaying,  unless  for  the  sake  of  immeasurable 
ransoms,  and  men  of  the  highest  rank,  character,  and  condi 
tion,  were  suffered  to  languish  miserable  years  in  closer  dur 
ance  than  the  worst  felon  of  our  days,  if  once  they  were  so 
hapless  as  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  an  enemy  as  prisoners-of- 
war. 

Of  the  second  class  are  the  judicial  combats,  the  fearful  pun 
ishments  inflicted  on  innocent  persons  for  witchcraft,  magic, 
devil-worship,  and  the  like,  all  which  absurdities  were  then 
more  generally  believed  to  be  positive  truths,  and  atrocities  of 
hourly  occurrence,  by  the  nations  at  large,  from  the  highest 
and  best  to  the  lowest  intellects,  than  are  the  truths  of  Holy 
Writ  accepted  as  truths  by  the  masses  of  even  the  most  Chris 
tian  communities.  It  is  much  to  be  doubted  whether  down  to 
the  fourteenth  century  there  were  even  ten  men  living  in  Eu 
rope,  from  the  Danube  to  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  who  disbelieved 
the  actual  and  present  agency  of  the  Supreme  Being  in  judicial 
battles,  or  of  the  Evil  Being  in  necromancies,  magical  murders, 
false  prophecies,  and  all  the  fanciful  wickednesses  comprised 
under  the  vulgar  name  of  witchcraft. 

In  reviewing,  therefore,  the  first  class,  we  must  not  be  de 
tained  by  the  ruggedness,  the  hardness,  the  impossibility,  nor 
even  by  the  fierce  and  sanguinary  habits  of  the  times,  for  at 
tributing  the  praise  of  true  heroism  to  many  who  were  in  their 
days,  and  according  to  their  acceptance  of  the  nature  of  hero 
ism,  true  heroes,  whatever  might  be  the  title  which  should  be 
justly  given  to  their  deeds  done  now-a-days. 

In  like  manner,  recording  the  events  of  the  second  order, 

6 


122         THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

we  must  beware  of  attributing  individual  cruelty  and  savage- 
ness  to  rulers  or  magistrates  who  ordered  the  infliction  of 
penalties  which  make  our  blood  run  cold,  for  offences  which 
we  know  to  have  no  existence,  but  in  the  reality  of  which  they 
implicitly  believed ;  for  they  were  in  reality  no  more  censur 
able  than  the  judge  and  jury  of  a  modern  court  is  for  pronoun 
cing  a  sentence,  or  finding  a  verdict  of  death,  this  year,  for  an 
offence,  which  the  milder  law  of  another  year  pronounces 
worthy  only  of  a  more  venial  penalty. 

In  both  these  classes  of  events  and  actions  so  long  as  the 
actors  have  acted  up  to  the  standards  which  their  own  ages 
considered  best,  highest,  purest,  noblest,  they  must  be  acquit 
ted  of  all  blame,  and  entitled  to  all  honor.  It  is  only  where 
they  have  fallen  below  the  spirit  of  their  time  in  morality,  or 
clemency,  or  virtue,  or  where  they  have  grossly  exceeded  it 
in  superstition,  intolerance,  bigotry,  or  severity,  or,  once 
more,  where  being  themselves  endued  with  clearer  lights, 
purer  perceptions,  and  higher  talents,  they  have  used  and 
perverted  the  less  elevated  spirit  of  the  times  to  their  own 
selfish,  ambitious,  personal,  or  even  patriotically  political 
views. 

The  heroine  whom  I  have  assigned  to  this  romance  presents 
a  remarkable  case  in  point,  under  both  the  views  in  question 
— under  the  first  as  regards  her  character,  and  the  light  in 
which  we  are  to  regard  her — under  the  second,  as  relates 
to  her  lamentable  and  unmerited  end. 

The  first  question,  as  regards  written  history,  has  always 
been  decided  in  her  favor,  though  it  is  quite  certain  that  ac 
cording  to  existing  ideas,  a  woman  playing  such  a  part  to-day, 
would  receive  no  higher  credit  from  the  judicious  or  the  right- 
minded  than  a  Marie  Ambree,  an  Augustina  of  Saragossa,  an 
Apollonia  Jagello,  or  any  other  high-spirited  virago,  whom  we 
puff  in  newspaper  columns  and  praise  in  after-dinner  speeches. 


BELIEF    IN    SUPERNATURAL    AGENCY,  123 

yet  never  dream  of  introducing  to  our  wives,  or  holding  up  as 
objects  of  imitation  to  our  daughters.  The  second  question 
has  as  generally  been  mistreated  by  historians,  and  attributed 
nationally  as  a  peculiar  disgrace  to  England,  and  individually 
as  an  act  of  unusual  atrocity  to  the  regent  Bedford,  though  it 
is  perfectly  evident  that  her  fate  would  have  been  identical, 
if  her  captors  had  been  Frenchmen,  and  her  judges  Charles  or 
Dunois,  for  as  the  winning  side  really  believed  her  mission, 
inspiration,  and  powers,  to  be  divine,  the  losers  as  readily  sup 
posed  them  to  be  fiendish  :  and,  in  truth,  the  whole  of  her 
career  is  so  strange,  unaccountable,  and  marvellous,  even  apart 
from  the  supernatural  wonders  added  to  it  by  the  one  party, 
and  implicitly  received  by  both,  that  it  would  be  scarce  sur 
prising,  if,  in  much  milder  and  more  recent  times,  and  among 
more  enlightened  actors,  such  a  course  of  success  were  con 
sidered  by  the  vulgar  minds,  of  which  by  the  way  there  are 
many  in  every  place,  as  the  result  of  superhuman  powers. 
Nay !  I  believe  that,  could  such  a  thing  have  occurred,  as  the 
checking  of  the  career  of  the  French  arms,  after  Lodi,  Maren- 
go,  Austerlitz,  and  Jena,  the  total  and  repeated  overthrow  of 
Napoleon,  and  the  rolling  back  the  refluent  tide  of  battle  from 
the  Po  and  Danube  to  the  Seine  and  Loire,  by  an  Austrian  or 
Italian  peasant-maiden,  half  the  consular  or  imperial  armies 
would  have  cried  sorcery  and  the  other  treason,  and  if  taken, 
she  would  unquestionably  have  shared  the  fate,  if  not  of  Joan 
of  Arc,  at  least  of  Hofer  and  a  hundred  Spanish  partisans  shot 
in  cold  blood  as  brigands.  Nor  do  I  think  the  case  would 
have  been  much  altered  if  Wellington  had  been  driven  from 
the  conquered  Pyrenees  to  the  Tagus  by  a  French  paysanne, 
or  the  victor  of  Buena  Vista  into  the  Rio  Grande  by  a  black- 
browed  Mexicana — at  least,  I  am  sure  that  such  events  would 
go  further  to  justify  the  belief  of  supernatural  agency  than  any 
part  of  the  performance  of  the  Misses  Fox  at  Rochester  with 


124  THE    FORTUNES    OT    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

their  assistant  knockers,  which  are  believed  by  many,  of  what 
some  are  pleased  to  call  "the  best  minds  in  the  country,"  to 
be,  not  only  superhuman  and  divine,  but  the  best,  if  not  sole 
convincing  proofs  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  Oh  !  Plato, 
Plato,  if  thy  reasonings  were  well,  some  of  them  have  been 
received  into  most  ill  understandings. 

But  to  come  more  directly  to  the  personality  of  my  heroine, 
it  can  not,  I  think,  be  doubted,  whatever  hypothesis  we  may 
take  of  her  career,  that  she  was  a  very  extraordinary,  unusual, 
and  in  some  sort,  superior  person.  That  she  was  an  impostor 
is  incredible,  and  if,  as  I  doubt  not  to  have  been  the  case,  she 
was  a  visionary  or  enthusiast,  and  perhaps  something  approach 
ing  to  what  we  call  a  somnambulic  or  mesmeric  personage, 
she  must  have  had  very  rare  faith  in  her  own  mission  as  a 
reality,  and,  what  is  more,  very  rare  powers  of  making  others 
also  believe  in  its  truth  and  divinity,  to  have  effected  what  she 
did,  with  the  means  which  she  had  at  her  command.  For  the 
minds  with  which,  and  against  which,  she  acted,  were  all 
minds  of  greatly  above  average  capacity ;  and  yet  it  appears 
to  me  to  be  very  certain  that  the  leaders  of  both  hosts  did  be 
lieve  in  her  real  possession  of  superhuman  powers  —  indeed, 
I  scarcely  see  how  at  that  day,  and  in  the  then  state  of  the 
human  mind,  they  could  have  believed  otherwise  —  though  the 
French  would  of  course  regard  the  supernaturalism  as  a  divine, 
the  English  as  a  diabolical  agency ;  for  such  is  the  natural 
constitution  of  the  human  mind,  the  partisans  of  any  cause, 
which  they  have  once  fairly  adopted,  under  whatever  views, 
coming  in  the  end  to  regard  it  as  the  true  and  Heaven-favored 
cause. 

But  in  order  to  get  a  little  more  nearly  at  this,  let  us  see 
what  was  the  state  of  France  at  her  appearance,  what  the  cir 
cumstances  of  her  success,  and  what  the  real  extent  of  her  ser 
vices  to  her  king  and  country. 


DARK    DAYS    IN    FRANCE.  125 

About  fourteen  years  before,  the  tremendous  battle  of  Agin- 
court,  won  by  the  fifth  Henry  of  England,  had  more  than  deci 
mated  the  aristocracy,  and  completely  subdued  the  feudal  mil 
itary  power  of  France  ;  all  the  leading  princes  of  the  blood 
royal,  and  a  fearful  proportion  of  the  nobility  of  the  realm  had 
been  slain  on  the  fatal  field,  or  still  languished  in  English  dun 
geons.  From  that  day  forth,  every  species  of  calamity  had 
befallen  the  unhappy  France,  the  queen-mother  hostile  to  her 
own  son,  a  minor,  the  dauphin  Charles,  the  furious  factions  of 
the  Armagnacs  and  Burgundians  literally  deluging  the  streets 
of  Paris  with  French  blood,  province  against  province,  prince 
against  prince,  and  ever  and  anon  the  English  profiting  by  the 
dissensions  and  disasters  of  the  enemy,  to  break  in  and  overrun, 
and  desolate,  and  take  possession,  until  it  really  did  seem  as 
though  the  boastful  pretensions  of  the  English  king  were  true  ; 
and  as  though  his  utmost  ambition  was  about  to  be  realized, 
when  he  replied  to  the  cardinal  des  Ursins,  who  would  have 
persuaded  him  to  peace  :  "  Do  you  not  see  that  God  has  led 
me  hither  as  by  the  hand  ?  France  has  no  sovereign  ;  I  have 
just  pretensions  to  the  kingdom  ;  everything  here  is  in  the  ut 
most  confusion,  no  one  thinks  of  resisting  me.  Can  I  have  a 
more  sensible  proof  that  the  Being  who  disposes  of  empires  has 
determined  to  put  the  crown  of  France  upon  my  head  ?" 

And  shortly  afterward,  though  the  battle  of  Beauge,  wherein 
the  duke  of  Clarence  fell  by  the  spear  of  the  Scottish  champion, 
Allan  Swinton,  and  Dorset,  Somerset,  and  Huntingdon,  were 
made  prisoners,  threw  a  solitary  gleam  of  lustre  over  the  dark 
affairs  of  France,  it  availed  not  to  retard  the  progress  of  Henry, 
who  had,  in  fact,  conquered  all  the  northern  provinces,  and  held 
them  in  quiet  possession  ;  who  was  master  of  the  capital,  Paris, 
wherein  his  son,  afterward  Henry  VI.,  of  most  hapless  mem 
ory,  was  born  amid  general  acclamations,  and  almost  unani 
mously  hailed  as  heir  to  both  crowns  ;  and  who  had  chased  the 


126         THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

dauphin  beyond  the  Loire,  whither  he  was  pursued,  almost  in 
despair,  by  the  victorious  and  united  arms  of  Burgundy  and 
England. 

Had  Henry's  life  been  prolonged,  it  is  difficult  to  conjecture 
what  would  have  been  the  end,  for  he  was  no  less  politic  as  a 
prince,  and  shrewd  as  a  man,  than  daring,  skilful,  and  success 
ful  as  a  leader.  But  the  Disposer  of  empires,  whose  fiat  he 
had  so  recently  anticipated,  had  already  disposed  of  the  tenure 
of  his  own,  much  more  of  his  half-conquered  and  rashly-expected 
crown,  and  he  was  summoned  from  the  captured  capital  of 
France,  before  that  throne,  where  kings  and  crowns  are  judged 
equally,  in  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  tenth  of 
his  reign  —  a  great  king,  a  great  conqueror,  a  brave,  honorable, 
and,  in  the  main,  a  just  and  good  man.  Few  men  have  per 
formed  more  splendidly,  ambitious  acts  from  less  personally 
selfish  motives  ;  few  kings  have  attained  such  glorious  greatness 
through  their  own  personal  action,  with  less  alloy  of  evil  or 
detraction. 

His  son,  whom  he  left  not  nine  months  old,  and  "  whose 
misfortune  in  the  course  of  his  life,"  to  quote  the  language  of 
Hume,  "  surpassed  all  the  glories  and  successes  of  his  father," 
succeeded  to  the  crown  of  his  father,  and  to  his  claims  on  that 
of  France  ;  nor,  although  minorities  are  proverbially  weak,  and 
the  times  were  turbulent  and  stormy,  did  his  tenure  of  the  one, 
or  his  accession  to  the  other,  appear  at  first  doubtful. 

Soon  after  the  death  of  Henry,  his  rival,  Charles  VI.  died 
also.  He  had  for  many  years  possessed  mere  nominal  author 
ity  of  his  France,  and  his  life  had  been  as  unhappy  to  himself 
as  disastrous  to  his  country.  To  his  son  he  left  only  a  disputed 
crown  and  a  divided  country,  and  that  he  ever  owned  the  one 
unquestioned  and  the  other  entire,  he  owed  in  part  to  his  own 
high  qualities  and  in  part  to  the  character  and  achievements 
of  Joan,  the  maid  of  Arc  and  Orleans.  He  was  crowned  at 


CHARLES    VII.    OF    FRANCE.  127 

Poictiers,  Charles  VII.;  his  Paris,  and  Rheims,  the  sacred  cor 
onation  city,  being  both  in  the  hands  of  the  English.  This 
event  occurred  in  the  year  1422,  and,  although  Henry  was  an 
infant,  and  when  even  he  arrived  at  manhood,  little  better  than 
imbecile,  so  splendid  was  the  administration  of  the  protector, 
the  duke  of  Bedford,  and  so  great  the  talents  of  the  renowned 
generals  who  commanded  under  him,  Somerset,  Warwick, 
Arundel,  Salisbury,  Suffolk,  and  the  still  greater  Talbot,  that 
they  not  only  held  Guienne,  the  capital,  and  all  the  northern 
provinces,  but  pressed  the  war  with  vigor  in  the  south  and  west, 
so  that  this  position  of  Charles  VI.  had  -become  almost  desper 
ate,  when  the  disastrous  battle  of  Verneuil,  second  only  in  the 
slaughter  of  nobility  to  the  fields  of  Cressy,  Poictiers,  and 
Agincourt,  reduced  him  to  the  last  extremity,  and  to  such  a 
state  of  hopeless  poverty  and  depression,  that  not  only  was  he 
compelled  to  abandon  every  effort  at  sustaining  the  parade  of  a 
court,  but  was  scarcely  enabled  to  procure  daily  subsistence  for 
himself  and  a  few  faithful  followers. 

Just  at  this  moment,  some  dissensions  occurred  in  the  Eng 
lish  ministry,  and  the  duke  of  Bedford  was  recalled  home,  his 
place  being  ably  filled  by  Suffolk,  and,  although  the  duke  of 
Brittany  was  beginning  to  look  distastefully  on  the  English  al 
liance,  and  Montargis  was  relieved  by  the  bastard  of  Orleans, 
better  known  in  after-days  as  the  count  of  Dunois,  so  little 
effect  did  the  change  of  hands  appear  to  have  produced  on  the 
conduct  of  the  war,  that  Orleans,  the  most  important  city  of 
France,  in  the  possession  of  Charles,  was  closely  invested  and 
on  the  point  of  yielding,  while  the  king  himself  was  dissuaded 
from  retreating  into  the  remote  provinces  of  Dauphiny  and  Lan- 
guedoc  by  the  entreaties  only  of  the  fair  but  frail  Agnes  Sorel. 

At  this  time  an  incident  occurred  so  strange,  and  with  con 
sequences  so  extraordinary,  that  once  can  scarce  wonder  at 
the  credulity  of  a  French  historian,  who,  describing  the  first 


328        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

appearance  of  Joan  on  the  scene  of  history,  commences  thus : 
"  But  at  this  crisis  the  Lord,  not  desiring  that  France  should 
be  entirely  undone,  sent  a  •woman,"  &c.,  &c.,  evidently  esteem 
ing  her  mission  as  positive  and  direct  as  that  of  St.  John,  or 
any  of  the  holy  apostles —  nor,  I  conceive,  is  it  all  to  be  doubt 
ed  that  she  herself,  and  those  to  whom  she  revealed  her  vis 
ions,  were  as  confident  of  her  divine  inspiration  and  superhu 
man  power. 

She  was  a  poor  girl,  of  the  small  village  of  Domremi,  near 
Vaucouleurs,  in  Lorraine,  of  the  very  lowest  class  of  society. 
She  is  variously  stated  to  have  been  a  hostler-wench  at  an  inn, 
and  shepherdess  ;  but  of  irreproachable  conduct,  and  undoubted 
virtue.  It  is  said  that  she  had  manifested  no  singularity  nor 
given  any  tokens  of  possessing  superior  genius,  until  she  was 
seized  by  a  sudden  idea  that  she  saw  visions  and  heard  voices 
commissioning  her  to  re-establish  the  throne  of  France,  and 
expel  the  foreign  invaders.  She  first  made  her  way  to  the 
presence  of  Baudricourt,  the  governor  of  Vaucouleurs,  to  whom 
she  declared  her  mission,  and,  although  he  at  first  treated  her 
with  neglect,  she  at  length  so  far  convinced  him  that  he  sent 
her  on  with  an  escort  to  the  French  court,  at  the  little  town  of 
Chinon.  Here,  it  is  asserted,  that  she  at  once  recognised  the 
king,  though  purposely  disguised  and  surrounded  by  his  cour 
tiers,  and  that  she  claimed  and  described,  even  to  its  minutest 
ornaments,  and  the  place  where  it  had  long  lain  concealed,  a 
curious  antique  sword,  which  was  found  in  the  church  of  St. 
Catharine  de  Fierbois.  Hume,  who  is  ever  skeptical,  leans  to 
the  view  that  all  this  was  jugglery,  not  exactly  on  Joan's  part, 
but  on  that  of  the  French  king  and  Dunois,  who  were  deter 
mined  to  use  her  as  an  instrument ;  and  to  the  talents  and  skill 
of  the  leaders,  whose  tactics  he  supposed  were  followed,  Joan 
being  merely  led  as  a  puppet  through  the  host,  he  ascribes  all 
that  follows. 


BELIEF    IN    HER    DIVINE    MISSION.  129 

This  appears  to  me  to  be  in  no  degree  tenable.  In  the  first 
place,  no  person  can  be  half-real  enthusiast,  half-impostor  — 
the  one  or  other  phase  of  character  must  prevail — the  impostor 
who  knows  his  own  jugglery,  can  not  believe  in  his  own  su 
pernatural  power  ;  the  enthusiast  who  does  believe,  has  no  need 
to  have  recourse  to  imposture.  Secondly,  so  general  a  reli 
gious  imposture,  to  which  jurists,  doctors  of  divinity,  and  igno 
rant,  superstitious  warriors  must  have  lent  themselves,  is 
wholly  inconsistent  with  the  spirit  of  the  age,  and  the  charac 
ter  of  the  popular  mind.  Thirdly^  Dunois,  and  the  other  French 
leaders  had  been  daily  and  hourly  beaten,  and  had  never  shown 
either  the  talents  or  the  force  which  they  subsequently  dis 
played.  Fourthly,  it  is  little  likely  that  on  the  faith  of  so  shal 
low  and  childish  an  imposture  as  dressing  up  a  simple-village 
girl,  not  only  sane  but  shrewd  and  wise  men,  who  had  not  pre 
viously  ventured  to  undertake  the  most  trivial  sally,  now  boldly 
should  set  armies  in  the  field,  carry  out  enterprises  of  great 
pith  and  moment,  and  utterly  paralyze  foes  so  able  as  Suffolk, 
Talbot,  Scales,  and  Falstoffe,  by  a  series  of  well-directed  blows, 
stunningly  delivered  and  rapidly  followed  up.  Fifthly,  it  is 
incredible,  that,  if  the  French  had  been  such  fools  as  to  try  so 
silly  a  trick,  if  a  mere  trick,  the  English  could  be  so  miserably 
gulled.  And  lastly,  the  empty  and  useless  pageant  of  the  pro 
cession  to  Rheims,  the  whole  distance  through  the  heart  of 
an  enemy's  country  and  in  the  midst  of  his  hostile  and  undis 
mayed  garrisons,  can  not  be  accounted  for  by  political,  military, 
or  rational  grounds,  or  by  any  supposition,  unless  this,  that 
every  person  of  the  French  army,  and  of  the  English  army 
also,  was  thoroughly  convinced  of  her  supernatural  power,  and 
irresistible  prowess. 

This  supposition,  accounts  for  the  attempt,  and  accounts  also 
for  its  success.  And  such  a  conviction  only  could  be  wrought 
upon  such  minds  as  those  of  Charles  VII.,  and  Dunois,  of  Suf- 

6* 


130  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

folk,  and  Sir  John  Talbot,  by  a  person  who  did  really  possess 
extraordinary  talents,  extraordinary  enthusiasm,  and  did  really 
perform  extraordinary  things.  No  one  now  believes  that 
Oliver  Cromwell  really  heard  a  voice,  at  the  dead  of  night, 
telling  him  in  his  obscure  boyhood  that  he  should  be  "  not 
king,  but  the  first  man  in  England,"  nor  is  it  probable  that  John 
Hampden  then  believed  the  vision,  but  he  did  believe  the  en 
thusiasm,  and  did  believe  the  fact,  as  he  told  Sir  Philip  War 
wick,  that  "  yon  sloven  would  be  the  greatest  man  in  England." 
The  belief  made  the  enthusiasm  of  the  man  —  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  man  made  the  belief  of  the  followers,  and  the  enthusiasm 
and  the  belief  excited,  made  the  imagined  vision  to  come  to 
pass  in  a  palpable  fact. 

The  facts  are  that  she  relieved  Orleans,  in  the  first  place  giv 
ing  up  her  own  opinion  to  the  advice  of  Dunois,  hers  being  the 
more  daring  council  —  that  she  then  threw  herself  into  the  city, 
marching,  according  to  her  own  plan,  directly  through  the  Eng 
lish  lines,  the  hitherto  victorious  Britons,  before  a  dozen  of 
whom  hundreds  of  French  had  been  daily  flying  in  panic  terror, 
not  daring  to  attack  her — that  she  stormed  the  lines  of  Suf 
folk,  and  utterly  defeated  his  whole  army  with  prodigious  loss 
— that,  then,  following  up  her  successes,  she  stormed  Jergeau, 
whither  the  regent  had  retired,  carried  the  town  by  assault, 
Suffolk  himself  being  obliged  to  surrender  himself,  and  that  a 
few  days  after,  she  again  attacked  the  rear  of  the  late  victori 
ous  forces,  with  such  headlong  valor,  that  the  redoubted  Falstoffe 
fled  like  a  poltroon  before  her,  and  was  deprived  of  his  garter 
for  cowardice,  while  Talbot  and  Scales  were  made  prisoners, 
and  the  whole  army  and  cause  of  the  English  utterly  disor 
ganized  and  lost. 

These  are  not  the  acts  of  an  impostor,  nor  of  men  palm 
ing  an  enthusiast,  in  whom  they  did  not  believe,  on  inferior 
minds.  Where  did  Charles  and  Dunois  gain  the  audacity,  the 


CONDEMNED    TO    BE    BURNT.  131 

skill,  and  the  fortune  to  recover  all  that  they  had  lost  in  fourteen 
years,  in  as  many  days  —  where,  indeed,  if  not  in  the  convic 
tion  that  Joan's  enthusiasm,  visionary  possession,  and  energetic 
will  were  indeed  of  Heaven,  and  themselves  consequently  des 
tined  to  be  victorious  ? 

The  rest  of  her  career  is  explained  yet  more  easily  on  the 
same  hypothesis.  She  next  declared  that  her  further  mission 
was  to  conduct  Charles  in  triumph,  at  the  head  of  a  small 
force,  to  Rheims,  across  one  half  of  the  breadth  of  France,  and 
there  to  crown  him  with  the  due  ceremonial  of  the  kings  of 
France ;  and  this,  too,  she  accomplished  without  a  banner 
raised,  a  trumpet  blown,  or  a  spear  couched  against  her.  The 
attempt  justified  the  success,  for  the  very  rashness  of  the  un 
dertaking  and  inadequacy  of  the  object  increased  the  panic  of 
the  English.  But  in  what  possible  light  must  we  regard  the 
statesmen  and  warriors  whom  Hume  believes  to  have  been  the 
moving  actors  of  this  wonderful  drama  ?  If  we  believe  them, 
when  it  was  their  business  to  have  hunted  the  invaders  from 
post  to  post  while  their  panic  was  fresh  upon  them,  until  they 
left  the  land  they  had  so  long  held  as  their  own  —  if  we  be 
lieve  them,  I  say,  at  such  a  time,  to  have  risked  all  they  had  won, 
and  their  army  and  king  to  boot,  for  the  sake  of  a  mere  empty 
pageant,  which  might  well  have  followed,  but  absurdly  pre 
ceded  the  conquest  of  the  enemy. 

This  done,  Joan  declared  her  mission  ended,  her  powers 
revoked,  and  made  public  her  desire  to  resume  the  dress  of  her 
sex  and  her  former  condition.  She  was  overruled,  and  a  few- 
days  afterward  taken  in  a  sally  from  Compiegne,  by  John  of 
Luxembourg,  and  transferred  to  the  duke  of  Bedford,  by  whom 
she  was  delivered  over  to  the  ecclesiastical  power,  tried  by  a 
court  of  bishops  at  Rouen,  in  which  only  one  Englishman 
sat,  and  sentenced  to  be  burned  to  death  as  a  witch.  As 
sailed  on  all  sides  by  doctors  and  divines,  by  promises  and 


132  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

threats,  and  naturally  and  consistently  doubting,  from  her  fall,  the 
origin  of  her  former  successes,  she  declared  her  visions  to  be  il 
lusions,  and  her  powers  impostures,  and  her  sentence  was  there 
upon  commuted.  Having,  however,  resumed  male  habits,  said 
to  have  been  purposely  thrown  in  her  way,  and  again  returned  to 
her  former  belief  in  her  supernatural  inspiration,  probably  from 
the  idea  that  the  male  habiliments  were  supernaturally  sent  to 
her,  she  was  adjudged  a  relapsed  heretic  and  magician,  and 
was  cruelly,  but  in  direct  accordance  with  the  notions  and 
ideas  of  the  age,  burnt  to  ashes  in  the  market-place  at  Rouen. 

I  see  no  cause  to  agree  in  the  belief  that  any  peculiar  cru 
elty  excited,  or  that  any  political  tactics  prompted  either 
Bedford  or  her  judges,  nor  that  it  was  any  "  pretence,"  as 
Hume  terms  it,  "  of  heresy  and  magic,"  by  which  she  was 
consigned  to  the  flames  ;  but  that  it  was  as  full  a  belief  on  the 
part  of  her  slayers  that  she  was  a  foul  and  fiendish  wizard, 
as  her  own  conviction,  and  that  of  her  followers,  was  full  and 
certain  that  she  was  a  messenger  of  Heaven. 

Heroine  and  enthusiast  she  was,  spotless  of  life,  daunt 
less  of  courage,  hapless  of  death,  but  most  forturiate  of  glory — 
certainly  an  agent  and  minister  of  Providence,  not  by  divine 
mission,  but  by  the  working  of  natural  causes — for  she  re 
deemed  the  throne  of  France  to  its  native  owners,  never  again 
to  be  seriously  disputed  by  an  English  claimant.  Few  hero 
ines  have  a  fairer  title  to  the  name,  and  none  a  fame  more  spot 
less. 


DARK    DAYS    IN    FRANCE.  133 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    MISSION. 

"Was  Mahomet  inspired  with  a  dove? 
Thou  with  an  eagle  art  inspired  then. 
Helen,  the  mother  of  the  great  Constantino, 
Nor  yet  Saint  Philip's  daughter,  were  like  thee. 
Bright  star  of  Venus,  fallen  down  on  earth, 
How  may  I  reverently  worship  thee  enough?" 

KING  HENRY  VI. 

THE  destinies  of  France  were  at  the  lowest.  From  the 
rapid  waters  of  the  Rhine  to  the  stormy  coasts  of  the  Atlantic, 
from  Calays  to  the  heights  of  Jura,  there  was  but  a  single 
thought,  a  single  terror  among  the  inhabitants  of  that  fair 
and  fertile  kingdom  —  the  English!  the  victorious  English! 
Never,  since  the  days  of  Charles  the  Bold,  when  the  roving 
Northmen  had  moored  their  galleys  on  the  coast,  and  erected 
their  raven-standards  on  the  conquered  walls  of  Neustria — 
never  had  the  arm  of  foreign  invader  so  paralyzed  the  efforts, 
so  overawed  the  high  and  cheerful  courage  of  that  warlike 
people.  Paris  herself  was  garrisoned  by  the  victorious  arch 
ers  of  the  Ocean  Isle,  and  scarce  an  echo  throughout  the 
western  provinces  but  had  sent  back  the  twanging  of  their 
bows  and  the  deep  terrors  of  their  Saxon  war-cry.  Force  and 
guile  had  hitherto  been  tried  in  vain.  If,  for  a  moment,  at  the 
death  of  some  bold  leader  on  the  field  of  his  renown  Fortune 
had  seemed  to  smile,  it  was  but  to  efface  the  recollection  of 
that  transitory  gleam  in  the  dark  sorrows  that  succeeded  it. 
Salisbury,  indeed,  had  fallen ;  but,  in  his  place,  the  stern  and 
politic  Bedford,  than  whom  a  wiser  regent  never  swayed  the 


134        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

terrible  engine  of  military  power,  lorded  it  over  the  crouching 
natives  with  equal  ability  and  tenfold  rigor  ;  nor  could  the 
united  force  of  France  and  Scotland,  the  emulous  and  well- 
matched  valor  of  Douglas  and  the  bold  Dunois,  effect  more 
than  a  temporary  check  on  men  to  whom  battle  had  become 
the  very  breath  of  life,  and  victory  the  certain  consequence  of 
battle. 

It  was  at  this  fatal  period,  when,  the  English  lion  "  camped 
in  gold"  over  the  subject  towers  of  every  town  or  castle  from 
Brest  to  Calays  —  when  the  feeble  garrison  of  Orleans  alone 
maintained  a  protracted  resistance  —  the  resistance  of  despair 
— when  the  battle  of  the  Herrings  had  put  an  end,  even  in  the 
boldest  spirit,  to  the  hope  of  raising  that  last  siege  —  when  the 
trembling  parliament  was  convened  at  Poictiers,  and  the  court 
dwelt,  shorn  of  half  its  honors,  in  the  petty  town  of  Chinon  — 
when  the  aisles  of  Notre-Dame  were  polluted  by  mass  and 
requiem  chanted  in  the  strange  dialect  of  the  invaders.  It 
was  at  this  stormy  period  that  the  sire  de  Baudricourt  sat  alone 
in  his  ancient  chateau  of  Vancouleurs  Night  had  already 
closed  around,  and  the  small  turret-chamber,  in  which  he  sat, 
was  dark  and  gloomy ;  but  not  more  gloomy  nor  more  dark 
than  was  the  visage  of  the  stern  old  governor.  No  lights 
had  yet  been  brought,  and  the  embers  of  an  expiring  fire 
scarce  threw  their  fitful  illuminations  beyond  the  jambs  of  the 
waste  and  tomb-like  chimney.  A  table  covered  with  a  faded 
carpet,  and  strewn  with  two  or  three  huge  folios,  treatises  on 
the  art  of  war,  and  several  rude  scrawls,  the  nearest  approach 
to  maps  of  which  that  remote  age  was  capable,  occupied  the 
centre  of  the  chamber ;  and  beside  it  in  a  high  chair  of  an 
tique  oak,  the  tall,  spare  form  of  the  old  warrior,  his  arms 
folded  and  his  teeth  set,  brooded  over  the  misfortunes  of  his 
sovereign  and  of  his  native  land.  A  loose  robe  of  sad-colored 
velvet,  gathered  round  his  waist  by  a  broad  belt  of  buff 


THE  GOVERNOR  OF  VANCOULEURS.  135 

from  which  protruded  the  hilt  of  a  long  and  formidable  pon 
iard,  and  a  bonnet  of  the  same  materials  carelessly  thrown 
upon  his  time-blanched  locks,  composed  his  present  attire  ; 
though  at  a  few  paces'  distance  from  his  seat,  a  heart-shaped 
shield,  dinted  by  many  a  shrewd  blow,  and  a  huge  two-handled 
espaldron,  at  least  five  feet  in  length,  on  which  might  be 
traced,  even  through  the  growing  darkness,  as  the  red  glare 
of  the  wood-fire  rose  and  fell  in  transient  gleams  upon  its 
corsleted  hilt  and  pondrous  blade,  the  stains  of  recent  slaugh 
ter,  together  with  a  crested  burgonet  and  shirt  of  linked  mail, 
lying  in  confusion  in  a  recess  formed  by  an  embrasure,  proved 
that  the  sire  of  Baudricourt  had  not  as  yet  neglected  the  prac 
tice  or  the  theory  of  war,  nor  forgotten  in  his  old  age  the  les- 
•sons  of  hard  experience,  which  he  had  been  taught  in  the 
well-fought,  though  fatal  field  of  Agincourt,  and  many  a  disas 
trous  battle  since. 

The  shades  of  night  fell  darker  yet  and  darker,  the  clash 
of  arms  without,  and  a  repeated  flourish  of  trumpets,  mingled 
with  the  booming  of  the  kettle-drums,  announced  the  setting 
of  the  watch,  but  failed  to  arouse  the  old  man  from  the  stupor, 
which,  it  would  seem,  had  fallen  on  his  usually  elastic  and 
energetic  spirit.  There  he  sat  alone  in  the  deepening  gloom 
like  some  desolate  and  foiled  magician,  forsaken  by  the  very 
friends  who  had  ministered  to  his  success,  but  ministered  only 
to  precipitate  his  fall,  gazing  with  a  fixed  and  stormy  eye  upon 
the  vacant  darkness.  A  quick  step  was  heard  without,  the 
fastenings  of  the  door  jingled  beneath  the  pressure  of  a  hasty 
hand,  the  creaking  leaves  flew  open  with  a  jar  that  might  have 
roused  a  thousand  sleepers  buried  in  the  deepest  slumbers  of 
the  flesh  ;  but  his  were  slumbers  of  the  mind,  nor  did  he  start 
from  his  chair  until  the  light  and  reverential  touch  of  the 
squire,  who  stood  beside  his  elbow,  had  thoroughly  dispelled 
the  waking  dreams  which  had  so  completely  enthralled  his  mind. 


136  THE    FORTUNES    OP    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

"  Damian,"  he  cried,  as  soon  as  he  became  aware  of  the 
intruder's  presence,  "  Damian,  what  wouldst  them?  hast  thou 
more  ill-tidings  for  our  ear  ?  For,  by  my  faith,  all  tidings  have 
been  ill  for  France,  these  six  months.  Alas !  alas !  poor 
France  !  Unhappy  country  !"  and  he  smote  his  breast  heavily 
as  the  full  sense  of  all  her  miseries  flashed  upon  his  mind, 
stunned  as  it  had  been  before,  and  paralyzed  by  the  news  of 
the  last  defeat. 

"  Not  so,  beau  sire,"  replied  the  squire  ;  "  but  there  is  one 
below  urgent  to  see  your  valor  on  matters,  it  is  rumored,  of 
high  import." 

"  Admit  him  on  the  instant,"  was  the  hasty  answer  of  the 
impatient  baron  —  "on  the  instant!  Sir,  this  is  no  time  for 
loitering ;  and  let  those  lazy  knaves  bring  lights  and  mend  the 
fire.  This  is  cold  cheer!  Look  to  it,  sir,  and  speedily." 

The  dormant  spark  once  kindled  in  his  bosom,  he  did  not 
again  sink  into  despondency  or  gloom ;  and,  till  the  return  of 
the  squire  bearing  a  pair  of  huge  waxen  torches,  flaming  and 
smoking  in  the  sudden  gusts  of  wind  that  wandered  through 
those  old  apartments,  he  strode  impatiently,  almost  fiercely, 
across  the  narrow  floor,  the  solid  timbers  groaning  beneath  his 
still  firm  stride,  now  muttering  to  himself,  now  playing  with 
his  dagger-hilt,  and  now  pausing  awhile  to  mark  if  he  could 
catch  the  footsteps  of  the  new-comer.  "  They  come  not  yet. 
Tete  Dieu,  the  loitering  knaves.  Heaven's  malison  upon 
them !  And  it  may  be  despatches  from  Poictiers !  Would 
that  it  were  —  would  that  it  were  !  Ma  foi,  this  garrison  duty, 
and  these  dull  skirmishes  with  the  base  Flemish  hogs  upon 
the  frontier,  are  foul  checks  on  the  spirit  of  a  gentleman  of 
France !  Would  that  it  were  despatches,  that  old  Baudricourt 
might  see  once  more  the  waving  of  the  oriflamme,  the  ban 
and  arriere  ban  of  France,  and  stand  some  chance  of  falling, 
as  brave  men  should  fall,  among  the  splintering  of  lances,  and 


THE    UNKNOWN    GUEST.  137 

the  gallopping  of  war-steeds,  the  fluttering  of  pennons,  and  the 
merry  blaze  of  trumpets  ;  but,  mea  culpa !  mea  culpa !  what 
have  I  said  or  thought?  The  best,  the  bravest  knight  is 
enough  honored  —  enough,  did  I  say?  —  is  too  much  honored, 
so  he  may  serve  his  country !" 

The  muttered  soliloquy  of  the  baron  was  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  a  dozen  of  serving-men,  not  in  rich  liveries  or 
peaceful  garb,  but  helmed  and  booted,  with  sword  on  the  hips, 
and  the  spur  on  the  heel,  ready  alike  for  the  service  of  their 
lord  in  the  hall  of  banquet,  or  on  the  field  of  carnage,  and 
prompt  to  execute  his  bidding  almost  before  it  was  expressed. 
Fresh  logs  were  heaped  upon  the  hearth,  which  soon  diffused 
a  broad  and  cheerful  glare  athwart  the  Gothic  niches  and 
richly-tinted  casements ;  a  dozen  lights  glittered  around  the 
walls  ;  the  worm-eaten  folios  and  dusty  parchments  disap 
peared  from  the  central  table,  and  in  their  place  two  massive 
flagons  of  burnished  silver,  with  as  many  goblets  of  a  yet  more 
precious  metal,  sent  back  the  mingled  light  of  fire  and  torches 
in  a  dozen  streams  of  bright  reflection.  Scarce  were  these 
dispositions  of  the  chamber  completed,  ere  Damian  returned, 
accompanied  by  the  stranger  whose  arrival  had  created  so 
much  anxiety.  This  was  a  low,  slight  figure,  apparently  a 
stripling  of  some  eighteen  years,  wrapped  in  a  long,  dark 
mantle,  which  fully  answered  the.purpose  of  a  disguise,  as  it 
trailed  upon  the  ground  behind,  while  in  front  it  hung  far  be 
low  the  ankles  ;  a  Spanish  hat,  much  slouched  over  the  face, 
with  a  black,  drooping  feather,  concealed  the  features  of  the 
wearer  as  completely  as  the  mantle  did  his  form.  Entering 
the  turret-chamber,  the  figure  advanced  quickly  for  about  three 
paces,  then,  without  uncloaking,  or  even  removing  his  hat, 
although  the  stately  baron  had  uncovered  his  locks  of  snow, 
in  deference  to  his  guest,  turned  abruptly  to  the  squire,  who 
had  paused  upon  the  threshold,  motioning  him  to  retire. 


138        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

"  Not  I,  by  Heaven  !"  muttered  the  favorite  attendant ;  "  not 
I,  and  that,  too,  at  a  nameless  and  most  discourteous  stranger's 
bidding." 

"  Damian !"  exclaimed  the  old  baron,  with  a  stern  and  sol 
emn  emphasis,  "  Damian,  begone." 

"My  master!  —  my  honored,  my  adored  master,"  cried  the 
squire  flinging  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  lord  he  had  followed 
in  many  a  bloody  day,  and  wetting  his  buskins  with  honest 
tears  —  "anything!  —  anything  but  this!  Bid  me  not  leave 
you  —  and  alone  with  yon  dark  stranger.  Bethink  you,  sir,  for 
France's  sake,  if  not  for  Damian's,  or  your  own — bethink  you  ! 
It  is  scarce  three  months  since  the  bold  knight  of  Bracquemont 
was  murthered — basely  murthered  —  on  his  own  hearthstone, 
and  by  a  nameless  guest.  Who  knows  not,  too,  of  the  captal 
de  Buche  kidnapped  in  his  princely  hall,  and  borne  from  the 
midst  of  his  own  retainers  to  an  eternal  dungeon  ?  Let  me 
stay  with  you,  beau  sire  ;  a  Villeneuve  has  no  ears  to  hear, 
nor  eyes  to  see,  nor  hand  to  strike,  save  at  the  bidding  of  a 
Baudricourt." 

"  This  must  not  be,  good  Damian,"  replied  the  knight,  but 
no  longer  in  accents  of  anger  ;  "  this  must  not  be  !  Your  fears 
for  me  have  overpowered  your  wonted  penetration.  See,  'tis 
a  stripling  —  a  mere  stripling!  Why,  this  old  arm  could  quell 
— hath  quelled  a  score  of  such,  and  thought  it  light  work,  too, 
good  Damian.  So !  my  faithful  friend.  Is  your  old  lord  so 
fallen  in  your  estimation  that  you  dare  not  trust  him  to  his  own 
good  blade  against  a  single  boy  ?  Why,  I  have  known  the 
day  you  would  have  borne  our  gage  of  battle  to  Roland,  and 
pledged  your  hope  of  golden  spurs  upon  our  battle !  Leave  us 
awhile,  good  Damian  !  It  needs  not  this  —  away  !" 

Reluctantly  and  slowly  did  the  trusty  squire  withdraw,  keep 
ing  his  eye  fixed  on  the  dark  cloak  and  slouched  head-gear, 
which  seemed  so  suspicious  to  his  loves  or  to  his  fears,  and 


THE  OLD  GOVERNOR  NONPLUSSED.  139 

his  hand  griping  the  hilt  of  his  short,  sharp  estoc  until  the  door 
closed  upon  him ;  and  even  then  he  stood  at  a  short  distance, 
watching,  as  the  greyhound  straining  in  the  slips,  when  the 
slow-hounds  are  making  the  coppice  ring  with  their  deep  bay 
ing,  to  catch  the  slightest  indication  of  tumult  or  disturbance 
in  the  chamber  of  his  lord,  that  he  might  fly  to  his  aid,  and, 
if  not  rescue,  at  least  die  for  his  benefactor.  With  a  keen 
eye,  and  watchful,  if  not  suspicious  spirit,  the  old  knight  scru 
tinized  the  motions  of  his  guest.  Before  the  jarring  of  the 
ponderous  door  had  fully  announced  that  they  were  alone,  the 
plumed  hat  was  cast  aside,  revealing,  by  its  absence,  a  well- 
formed  head,  covered  with  a  profusion  of  black  and  silky  hair, 
hanging  in  short  but  massy  ringlets,  far  down  the  neck  of  the 
stranger,  and  a  set  of  features  which  might  well  have  passed 
for  those  of  a  beautiful  girl,  but  which  might  yet  belong  to  ex 
treme  youth  and  delicacy  in  the  other  sex.  The  brow  was 
broader  and  more  massive  than  is  often  seen  in  women,  and 
the  eyes,  though  fringed  with  long  and  lovely  lashes,  had  an 
expression  of  wild  and  almost  ecstatic  boldness  ;  the  rest  of 
the  lineaments  that  met  the  eye  of  Baudricourt  were  regular 
and  delicate,  even  to  effeminacy,  in  their  chiselling. 

"  In  God's  name,  what  art  thou  ?"  cried  the  stern  warrior, 
losing,  in  the  wonder  and  excitement  of  the  moment,  all  the 
cold  dignity  and  hauteur  of  his  wonted  mood.  "  Maiden,  or 
page,  spirit  of  the  blessed,  or  dark  and  evil  fiend,  I  know  not, 
and  I  care  not,  speak?  Stand  not  thus,  I  do  conjure  thee  — 
speak  ?" 

The  mantle  fell  slowly  to  the  ground,  and  a  female  form  of 
exquisite  proportions,  though  somewhat  lofty  for  its  years  and 
sex,  stood  palpably  before  him.  The  dress  had  nothing  to 
•create  even  a  moment's  attention:  a  dark,  close  robe  of  serge, 
gathered  about  the  waist  by  a  broad,  leathern  girdle,  and  san 
dals  of  the  chamois  hide,  and  no  more  ;  but  in  the  attitude,  the 


140        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

supernatural  expression  of  the  features,  the  hands  uplifted, 
and,  above  all,  the  penetrating  glance  of  the  full  and  flashing 
eyes,  there  was  much,  which,  in  that  age  of  mystery  and 
superstition,  might  well  have  led  the  governor  to  deem  his 
visitant  a  being  of  no  mortal  origin. 

"  Thou  art  a  lover  of  thy  country,"  she  said  at  length  in  har 
monious,  but  slow  and  solemn  tones,  »  a  faithful  servant  of  thy 
king,  a  fervent  worshipper  of  the  one  living  God  ?  I  tell  thee, 
sire  de  Baudricourt,  that  by  the  special  favor  of  the  last,  thou 
shall  save  thy  native  land  from  the  fury  of  the  invader,  and 
seat  thy  monarch  once  again  upon  the  throne  of  his  forefathers. 
This  shalt  thou  do.  Swear  only  to  follow  my  commands,  the 
commands  of  thy  king,  thy  country,  and  thy  God  ?" 

«  And  who  art  thou  to  speak  thus  boldly  of  the  will  of  mon- 
archs,  and  the  destined  mercies  of  Almighty  power  ?"  cried 
Baudricourt,  recovering  somewhat  from  his  first  surprise,  and 
becoming  rapidly  incredulous,  nearly  to  the  same  degree  in 
which  he  had  lately  been  the  contrary. 

"  I  might  say  to  thee,  as  He  once  said  to  his  doubting  ser 
vant  in  the  wilderness,  I  AM,  and,  did  I  speak  the  words, 
'twere  parricidal  sin  in  thee  to  doubt  them.  But  though  thy 
flesh  is  weak  and  faithless,  thy  heart  is  true  and  loyal ;  there 
fore,  I  say  to  thee,  I  am  the  Maid  of  Arc,  the  Maid  of  Orleans 
that  shall  be,  and  thence  the  Maid  of  Rheims.  In  me  hath 
God  raised  up  a  savior  to  his  bleeding  country,  a  deliverance 
to  his  people  !" 

"  Tush,  tett  me  not !  Heaven  chooses  other  messengers,  I 
trow,  than  such  as  thee  to  work  its  miracles !  Nor  would  thy 
slender  form  bide  long  the  brunt  of  Suffolk's  levelled  lances, 
or  Bedford's  archery !" 

«  Ha  !  Doubtest  thou  the  will  of  the  Omnipotent  ?  —  doubt- 
est  thou  that  He,  who  chose  the  son  of  the  humble  carpenter 
to  be  his  Son,  is  the  anointed  King  and  Savior  of  the  universe  ?  — 


THE    INSPIRATION.  141 

doubtest  thou  that  he  can  turn  the  frailty  of  the  weakest  girl  into 
an  engine  ten  thousand  times  more  mighty  than  the  practised 
valor  of  the  bravest  veteran  ?  Me  !  me  !  has  he  raised  up, 
and,  spite  of  thee,  old  warrior,  I  will  save  my  country  !  And 
thou,  whose  patriotism,  whose  loyalty,  and  whose  religion,  are 
but  a  mockery  and  a  lie,  thou,  too,  shalt  see  the  glories  thou 
hast  presumed  to  doubt !" 

n  Sayest  thou?"  shouted  her  enraged  host  — "  sayest  thou 
so,  wench  ?  By  Him  that  made  us  both,  but  that  I  deem  thee 
mad,  dearly  shouldst  thou  rue  thy  contumely !" 

"  Even  as  I  entered,"  was  the  calm  reply  — "  even  as  I  en 
tered,  thou  didst  frame  a  wish  to  perish,  as  a  brave  man  should, 
upon  the  field  of  glory." 

"  Knowest  thou  that?"  he  gasped  ;  "  then  is  the  fiend,  indeed, 
at  work  here !" 

"  Listen,  and  thou  shalt  hear.  But  three  nights  since  I  was 
a  peasant-maiden  without  a  care  or  thought  beyond  my  humble 
duties,  and  my  innocent,  though  happy  pleasures.  Now  am  I 
a  woman,  indeed,  but  a  woman  inspired  with  that  high  and 
holy  inspiration  that  armed  of  yore  a  Jael,  and  a  Deborah,  and 
a  Judith,  against  the  mailed  oppressors  of  their  country  and 
their  God.  But  three  nights  since,  a  voice  came  to  me  in  my 
sleep  —  a  mighty  voice,  loud  as  the  rolling  thunder,  but  sweeter 
than  the  breeze  of  summer — '  Slumber  no  more,'  it  cried.  '  A  rise ! 
arise  !  thou  humble  one  that  shall  be  mightier  than  the  mighti 
est,  arise  !'  it  cried  in  tones  that  still  ring  in  my  mortal  ears,  like 
strains  of  unforgotten  music,  '  thou  shalt  save  thy  country  !'  I 
started  from  my  sleep,  and  there  they  stood  —  there,  beside 
my  lowly  pallet — mother  of  the  blessed  Jesus,  meek  and  gen 
tle,  in  her  exceeding  beauty,  and  with  a  pure  and  holy  fire  in 
her  deep-blue  eyes,  that  spoke  of  immortality,  bright  and  all- 
glorious,  and  eternal !  And  by  her  side  there  stood  a  mailed 
and  helmed  shape  of  glory ;  but  his  arms  were  of  a  fashion 


142  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

not  like  thine,  for  his  limbs  were  naked  in  their  strength,  and 
his  face  unshaded  by  the  vizor,  a  planet-star  gleamed  on  his 
kingly  crest,  and  a  broad  cross  of  living  lustre  flamed  on  the 
buckler  of  the  great  archangel,  and  they  held  converse  with 
me  in  that  low  and  solitary  chamber — high,  but  voiceless  con 
verse —  and  they  told  of  the  things  that  were,  that  are,  and 
that  shall  be  hereafter !  Then  was  I  unlearned  and  rude- 
spoken.  Now,  blessed  be  they  that  gave,  can  I  speak  many 
and  great  things  ;  and  now  I  say  to  .thee,  as  it  was  said  to  me 
— '  Arise  !  Do  on  thy  arms  of  steel,  and  mount  thy  destrier, 
summon  thy  vassals,  and  display  thine  ancient  banner,  the 
Lord  doth  lack  thy  services  !  and — '" 

"And  for  what  ?"  interrupted  the  impatient  veteran — "for 
what  shall  I  do  on  my  armor,  and  erect  the  banner  of  mine 
house  —  at  whose  bidding?" 

"  To  speed  the  messenger  of  victory,  the  deliverance  of 
France,  to  the  king  —  even  to  the  king — thou  hard  of  heart, 
and  stubborn,  that  I  may  say  to  him  the  words  of  Him  who 
sent  me  — '  This  do,  and  thou  shalt  live  !'  " 

-"Away!"  was  the  reply.  "I  will  not  don  mine  harness, 
nor  bestride  my  charger — trumpet  shall  not  sound,  nor  banner 
wave  this  night." 

"  Ere  an  hour  shall  go  by,"  the  maiden  again  broke  in  with 
clear,  unfaltering  voice  —  "ere  an  hour  shall  go  by,  thou  un 
believer,  trumpet  shall  sound,  banner  shall  wave,  and  at  thy 
bidding !  and  thou  shalt  don  thine  arms,  and  rein  thy  puissant 
steed  at  my  command,  and  His  that  sent  me.  I  talk  not  to 
thee  of  glory,  or  of  loyalty,  for  it  were  of  no  avail.  I  talk  to 
thee  of  Power!  Power  which  made  thee  —  as  it  made  the 
fiends  —  made  thee,  and  may  destroy." 

"  And  by  that  Power  I  swear  !"  he  shouted  — 

"  Swear  not  at  all!  but  hear  me.  Since  all  other  methods 
fail,  hear  me  and  tremble.  By  the  immortal  soul  of  her  whose 


FIRST    PATH    OF    GLORY.  143 

mortal  body  thou  didst  destroy,  warping  her  purest  and  most 
womanish  affections  to  thine  unholy  will  and  her  destruction, 
I  bid  thee  follow  and  obey.  Not  that  the  works  of  Heaven 
need  the  aid  of  men,  but  that  all  earth  may  know  the  arm 
of  Heaven  by  the  union  of  a  scarlet  sinner,  such  as  thou,  to  a 
maid,  as  I  am,  humble,  but,  as  I  am  —  all  glory  be  to  Him!  — 
holy  and  innocent,  wilt  thou  obey  me  ?" 

"  Never !  never  !  I  mock  thy  power,  scoff  at  thy  words. 
Thou  knowest  not — none  ever  knew." 

"  Knew  not  the  clear  and  glassy  waves  of  the  Garonne, 
which  thou  didst  render  loathsome  as  the  charnel-house  ? 
Knew  not  the  high  and  holy  stars  that  heard  her  cries  for 
mercy  ?  Knew  not  the  Sitter  on  the  Throne,  the  Maker  and 
Judge  of  men  and  things  ?  Knew  not  the  Almighty  Shepherd 
the  fate  of  his  still  loved,  though  erring  child  1  Knew  not  the 
blood  of  Agnes  de  — " 

"  Speak  not  her  name  !  —  speak  not  her  flame  !  Slay  me  — 
do  with  me  as  thou  wilt  —  but,  oh  !  speak  not  her  name!" 
And  in  a  paroxysm  of  agony  and  shame  the  old  man  dashed 
himself  at  her  feet ! 

"  Rise  up  and  do  my  bidding."  And  he  arose,  silent  and 
submissive  as  a  chastened  infant ;  and  banners  did  wave,  and 
trumpets  ring  that  night.  Torches  and  cressets  flashed  through 
Gothic  armory  and  vaulted  stable.  Horses  were  saddled,  and 
their  steel-clad  riders  mounted  beneath  the  midnight  moon. 
The  drawbridge  fell,  and  hollowly  did  its  echoes  sound  be 
neath  the  trampling  feet,  as,  followed  by  knightly  crests,  and 
noble  banners,  and  with  that  proud  old  governor,  a  willing  vas 
sal  at  her  bridle-rein,  the  Maid  of  Arc  rode  forth  on  her  first 
path  of  glory. 


144  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    EVIDENCE. 

Reignier. — Fair  maid,  is't  thou  wilt  do  these  •wondrous  feats? 
Pucelle.  —  Reignier,  is't  thou  that  thinkest  to  beguile  me? 

"Where  is  the  dauphin?  —  Come,  come  from  behind; 

I  know  thee  well,  though  never  seen  before. 

Be  not  amazed,  there's  nothing  hid  from  me? 

KING  HEXRY  VI. 

THE  sun  was  some  three  hours  high,  on  a  bright  September 
morning,  when  the  rich  meadows,  lying  to  the  southwest  of 
the  Loire,  were  disturbed  by  the  merry  shout  of  the  falconers, 
and  the  yelping  cry  of  their  busy  spaniels.  No  tract  of  coun 
try  could  possibly  have  been  found  more  suitable  to  the  princely 
sport,  designated  in  the  quaint  language  of  the  day  as  the  mys 
tery  of  rivers,  than  the  broad,  verdant  plains,  through  which 
that  noble  stream  rolls  on  its  downward  course  from  the  anti 
quated  spires  of  Blois,  even  to  the  Western  ocean.  The  smooth 
velvet  turf,  free  from  the  slightest  obstacle  of  fence  or  barrier, 
was  as  perfectly  adapted  to  the  reckless  gallop  of  the  sports* 
man — who,  with  eyes  turned  heavenward,  intently  gazing  on 
the  towering  flight  of  his  gallant  falcon,  must  dash  onward  free 
of  rein  and  fearless  of  heart,  at  desperate  risk  to  life  and  limb 
—  as  were  the  rushy  margins  of  the  broad  river  and  its  hun 
dred  tributaries  to  the  food  and  sport  of  the  aquatic  birds,  that 
afford  to  him  his  keenest  pleasure.  The  party,  which  had 
sallied  forth,  as  it  would  seem,  on  this  delicious  morning,  from 
the  neighboring  walls  of  Chinon,  consisted  of  five  mounted  cav 
aliers,  with  a  dozen  grooms  and  servitors  on  foot,  some  bearing 
frames  on  which  to  cast  the  falcons  ;  others  with  lures,  and 


THE    FALCONERS.  145 

hunting-poles  to  beat  the  thickets,  and  not  a  feu  with  dogs  of 
almost  every  denomination,  straining  and  pantir  g  in  the  slips. 
The  falconers  —  all  gallantly  mounted,  and  all  testriding  their 
fiery  horses,  now  chafed  into  unusual  ardor  by  ,he  excitement 
of  the  sport,  with  that  peculiar  ease  and  mastery,  which  was 
then  indicative  in  a  high  degree  of  noble  birth  and  knightly 
bearing  —  would  have  appeared  to  a  careless  observer,  to  be 
equals  in  rank  and  station.  But  on  a  closer  scrutiny  it  must 
have  been  perceived,  that,  although  arrayed  for  his  rural  occu 
pation  in  the  simple  garments  of  a  sportsman,  one  of  the  party 
was  of  no  small  dignity,  perhaps  of  no  small  power.  This 
was  a  youth,  whose  age  could  not  have  exceeded  the  twentieth 
summer,  tall  of  his  years,  well-formed,  and  even  elegant  in  his 
proportions.  His  black  velvet  tocque,  with  its  single  heron 
plume,  set  jauntily  on  the  side  of  a  well-shaped  head,  suffered 
his  long,  light  hair  to  float  over  his  shoulders  in  loose  curls, 
while  it  threw  no  shadow  over  his  bold,  and  speaking  features  ; 
an  eye,  darker  than  was  warranted  by  the  color  of  his  hair, 
with  brows  of  the  same  shade,  straight  and  decided,  lent  an 
expression  of  sternness  to  his  lineaments,  which  was  belied  by 
the  sweet  and  winning  smile  that  would  light  them  up  at  in 
tervals,  as  an  April  sunbeam  would  gleam  npon  the  edges,  and 
clear  away  the  gloom,  of  an  equinoctial  storm-cloud  ;  his  nose 
was  prominent,  and  slightly  aquiline  ;  his  upper  lip  shadowed 
by  a  small  mustache,  and  his  chin,  contrary  to  the  custom 
of  the  age,  closely  shaven,  and  betokening,  in  its  square  and 
clearly-cut  outlines,  resolution,  and  manliness  of  purpose.  Al 
together,  it  was  a  countenance  which  women  would  adore,  and 
men  might  reverence  ;  there  was  a  mixture  of  voluptuousness 
and  hardihood,  of  gentleness  and  dignity,  such  as  unite  but 
rarely  in  the  features  of  a  single  individual,  and  which,  as  cer 
tainly  as  they  do  so  mingle,  betoken  the  existence  of  no  com 
mon  character.  His  garb  was  a  close  tunic,  or  jerkin,  of  forest- 

7 


146         THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

green,  furred  deeply  at  the  cape  with  minever,  tight  hose  of 
snow-white  chamois  leather,  with  falling,  buskins  of  russet,  and 
long  spurs  of  solid  gold.  On  his  right  hand,  covered  by  the 
peculiarly-formed  hawking  glove,  sat  a  Norway  falcon  of  the 
choicest  breed,  unhooded  and  ready,  as  its  clear,  wild  eye  an 
nounced,  for  instant  flight;  while  by  the  slightest  motion  of  his 
left,  he  turned  and  wound  the  beautiful  animal  he  rode,  with 
an  ease  that  almost  savored  of  the  magic.  As  widely  different 
in  appearance  from  this  gay  youth,  as  was  his  heavy  coal-black 
charger  from  the  slight  Arab  of  his  comrade,  was  the  knight 
who  rode  at  his  right  hand,  and  from  whose  tones  and  demeanor, 
even  more  than  from  his  words,  the  station  of  the  other  might 
be  conjectured.  His  stern,  and  hard-favored  countenance, 
scorched  to  almost  negro  blackness,  from  exposure  to  the  vicis 
situdes  of  climate  —  his  harsh,  black  hair,  clipped  short  upon 
his  swart  brow  —  his  strong  features,  and  forehead,  almost 
rendered  callous  by  the  pressure  of  his  cerveillicre — and  yet 
more  than  these,  his  deep  chest,  thin  flanks,  limbs  of  gigantic 
muscle,  and  bony  hands,  from  which  the  veins  and  sinews  pro 
jected  like  a  network  of  cords,  proved  him  to  be  a  man  more 
used  to  camps  than  courts,  and,  unless  appearances  were  more 
than  commonly  deceitful,  a  tried  and  powerful  warrior.  The 
dress  of  this  dark  soldier  was,  like  the  person  of  the  wearer, 
fitted  for  action  rather  than  for  show.  A  frock  of  buff-leather, 
such  as  was  worn  beneath  the  complete  panoply  of  knighthood, 
and  stained  in  many  places  by  rust,  with  the  rim  of  a  jazcran, 
or  light  shirt  of  chain-mail,  peeping  above  the  collar,  high 
boots  of  heavy  leather,  and  a  bonnet  of  scarlet  cloth,  with  a 
long  drooping  plume,  worn  without  the  slightest  decoration, 
completed  his  personal  attire  ;  but  on  one  side  of  the  saddlebow, 
hung  a  bacinet,  or  open  helmet,  of  highly-polished  steel,  with 
out  crest  or  burgonet  of  any  kind,  while  from  the  other  was 
slung  in  its  leathern  case,  a  heavy,  ¥double-headed  battle-axe. 


CHARLES    VII.    OF    FRANCE.  147 

"By  Heaven!  Dunois,"  cried  the  young  cavalier,  in  tones 
that  rung  like  tempered  steel,  "  by  Heaven,  but  the  free  morn 
ing  air  of  our  belle  France  smells  fragrantly,  after  the  musty 
vapors  of  yon  dull  garrison,  in  which  we  have  been  pent  so 
long.  And  thou,  old  croaker,  wouldst  have  cooped  us  up  yet 
longer  in  its  dungeon  walls  with  thy  perpetual  caution.  Con 
fess  thyself  in  fault,  my  paladin  ;  here  are  we  within  some  five 
leagues  of  the  outpost  of  those  dogged  islanders,  whom  God 
confound,  and  not  a  sound  or  sight  of  peril  hath  disturbed  our 
sport !  By  the  head  of  Charlemagne,  I  have  a  mind  to  beat  up 
their  quarters,  this  blithe  morning.  How  say  you,  cousin 
mine,  shall  we  five  cavaliers  ride  on  and  break  a  lance  in  sport 
with  these  knights  of  England  ?" 

"  May  Heaven  forefend,"  replied  the  renowned  warrior,  to 
whom  he  spoke,  in  a  voice  so  deep  and  sonorous,  that  it  was 
almost  startling,  when  compared  with  the  appearance  of  the 
speaker,  "  may  Heaven  forefend,  your  majesty  should  be  put  to 
such  necessity ;  but  little  would  your  hunting-sword,  or,  for 
that  matter,  my  good  battle-axe,  avail  against  the  espaldrons 
and  lances  of  Bedford's  chivalry.  And,  now  your  majesty  has 
given  me  permission,  I  do  beseech  you  turn  your  bridle-rein ; 
there  is  frank  courtesy  among  the  prickers  of  yon  island  host, 
and  by  my  faith  if  we  fall  in  with  one  of  their  videttes,  it  may 
go  hard  with  us  to  scape  a  lodging  in  their  tower  of  London. 
Methinks,  since  Azincour,  there  have  been  princes  of  the  blood 
enow  within  those  fatal  walls,  that  your  majesty  should  not 
seek  to  share  their  dwelling,  unless,  tete  Dieu,  it  please  you  to 
prove  the  politesse  of  their  sixth  Henry.  Methinks,  he  scarce 
will  change  your  highness'  platter,  and  wait  your  bidding  on 
his  knee,  as  did  the  black  prince  at  Poictiers,  that  of  your 
grandsire  John. 

"  Ha  !  By  mine  honor,  but  they  come  !  lo  there  !  yon  cloud 
of  dust,  and  yon  dense  plump  of  spears  beneath  a  knightly  ban- 


THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    A*C. 

ner !  Ride  for  your  life,  my  liege ;  spare  not  to  spoil  your 
horseflesh ;  ride  for  your  liberty  and  life  !  I  go  to  check  their 
progress  !  Reignier,  attend  the  king ;  and  ye,  Vendome  and 
Bourcicaut,  tarry  with  me  !n 

"  Nol  so,  fair  cousin  of  Dunois,"  replied  the  noble  boy,  as 
calmly  as  though  he  were  declining  an  invitation  to  a  banquet, 
"  not  -so !  Most  base  it  were  and  craven,  that  I,  who  by  my 
waywardness,  have  brought  ye  into  this  great  peril,  that  I, 
Charles  of  France,  should  purchase  a  rascal  freedom  by  the 
blood  of  my  best  counsellor,  and  bravest  knight.  We  will 
fight,  or  flee  together  ;  which  shall  it  be  ;  say  Bourcicaut,  spurs 
or  the  sword  ?  Ha !  Reignier,  Vendome,  speak  !n 

But.  while  he  was  yet  speaking,  Dunois  had  changed  his 
bonnet  for  the  trusty  casque,  loosed  his  cross-handled  sword 
in  its  scabbard,  and  grasped  his  axe.  He  listened  with  a 
grim  smile  to  the  young  monarch's  answer,  and,  dropping  the 
heavy  weapon  into  the  hollow  of  his  bridle-arm,  flung  out  his 
right  hand  impatiently  toward  the  other  courtiers — "  This  is 
no  time  for  boys'  play.  France  will  be  lost,  an'  we  stand  par 
leying  thus  ;  yon  spears  are  within  a  brief  mile  of  us  now  — 
seize  on  his  highness's  rein,  De  Bourcicaut  ;  away  with  him 
— no  time  for  courtesy — force  him  from  the  field,  brave  sirs, 
and  he  will  pardon  the  discourtesy  in  guerdon  of  his  safety !" 

It  was,  perhaps,  a  task  of  greater  enterprise  and  daring,  to 
those  high  spirits,  to  lay  hands  upon  the  person  of  their  sov 
ereign,  than  it  would  have  been  to  rush,  in  their  garments  of 
peace,  against  the  levelled  lances  of  the  English  skirmishers  ; 
undoubtedly  it  was  a  deed  which  manifested  in  a  higher  de 
gree  their  resolution  and  devoted  attachment.  In  an  instant  it 
was  done  :  Bourcicaut  and  Venddme  seized  his  reins  on  either 
hand,  and,  Reignier  striking  the  monarch's  Arab  sharply  with 
his  riding-rod,  all  three  dashed  off  at  a  pace  scarcely  inferior 
to  that  of  the  swallows,  a  few  of  which  lingered  in  the  mild 


A   FORLORX    HOPE.  149 

climate  beside  those  gentle  waters.  "  After  them,  Reignier," 
cried  the  deligrhted  Dunois  ;  M  after  them  !  I  can  find  play  for 
these  dogs,  for  an  hour,  with  my  single  arm,  and  ere  then,  if 
ye  spar  sharply,  ye  can  bring  me  succor ;  and  hark  ffcsr,  by 
yon  clamp  of  elms,  there  on  the  rivers  edge,  I  mnrkud,  as  we 
rode  by,  a  boat  at  moorings  —  put  but  the  Loire  between  us, 
and  ye  are  in  safety!  Farewell !  Away P 

And  without  another  word,  actuated  by  the  same  noble  spir 
it,  the  two  gallants  parted  —  the  one,  as  he  believed,  to  rush  on 
certain  death ;  the  other,  harder  to  him  than  death,  to  leave  a 
tried  and  valued  comrade  to  cope,  single-handed,  with  a  host. 
But  duty  — ay.  and  more  than  duty  —  imperious  honor  called, 
and  they  obeyed  !  —  the  one  in  all  the  triumphant  joy  of  con 
fidence  and  valor,  for  in  those  iron  days  there  was  no  consum 
mation  so  devoutly  to  be  prayed  for,  as  a  death  under  shield, 
and  in  a  rightful  cause  ;  the  other,  downcast  and  sorrowful, 
but  still  determined. 

Resolutely,  almost  fiercely,  had  the  young  king  struggled  at 
the  first,  charging  his  attendants  by  their  faith,  their  allegiance, 
and  their  honor,  to  desist ;  nay,  he  had  unsheathed  his  hunt 
ing-sword,  and  threatened  those  devoted  men  with  death. 
"  We  can  die,"  was  the  brief  but  reverential  answer — "  we 
can  die,  if  so  your  royal  highness  will  it — but  we  shall  die  in 
our  duty !""  Further  opposition  was  vain,  and  when  they  had 
ridden,  perhaps,  a  mile,  his  better  judgment  mastered  his  im 
petuosity,  and  he  pledged  his  kingly  word,  his  knightly  honor, 
to  accompany  their  flight.  Often,  however,  did  they  pause  — 
often  did  they  turn  the  head  to  mark  the  fortune  of  their  bold 
defender.  For  a  while,  they  saw  him  galloping  steadily  for 
ward,  his  helmet  flashing  to  the  sunshine,  and  the  outlines  of 
his  unblenching  form,  drawn  in  gigantic  relief  against  the  low 
horizon,  plunging  toward  the  band,  that  still  advanced  to  meet 
him,  as  confidently,  though  he  rode  alone  against  a  score  of 


150        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

lances,  as  though  he  had  been  the  leader  of  a  host.  They 
saw  him  for  the  last  time,  as  they  paused  to  breathe  their 
horses  on  the  summit  of  a  gentle  slope,  they  passed  the  brow, 
and  he  was  lost  to  their  lingering  eyes.  The  clump  of  elms 
was  reached,  the  barge  unmoored,  the  horses  embarked  — 
hands  used  to  the  lance  and  buckler,  grasped  oar  and  boat- 
hook,  but  no  prayers,  no  violence,  could  induce  the  noble 
Charles  to  enter.  "  Never  !  by  the  soul  of  my  fathers,  never! 
Thus  far  have  I  yielded  to  your  will,  but  now  am  I  resolved. 
Here  will  I  tarry  till  Dunois  return,  or  till  my  foes  have  passed 
yon  knoll.  If  he  have  fallen,  then  'twill  be  time,  and  time 
enough,  to  flee  ;  if  he  be  yet  alive,  as,  by  the  Virgin's  grace,  I 
trust  he  may,  we  yet  will  rescue  him."  His  words  bore  too 
much  of  weight  and  reason  to  be  denied  ;  but,  had  they  been 
wild  as  the  autumnal  winds,  denial  had  been  fruitless.  With 
eyes  on  the  alert,  and  ears  eagerly  drinking  in  the  smallest 
and  most  distant  sounds,  that  little  group  awaited  the  tidings 
of  victory,  or  of  death.  Long  and  keenly  did  they  listen — 
but  no  charging  shout,  no  clash  of  steel,  no  shivering  of  lances, 
came  on  the  light  air,  that  waved  the  foliage  round  them. 

"  Mere  de  Dieu  !"  shouted  the  king,  after  a  pause  of  deeper 
and  more  thrilling  attention ;  "  it  is  the  tramp  of  Dunois's  Oli 
vier —  I  could  swear  to  his  long  gallop  from  a  thousand!" 

"  Not  so  !  not  so  —  that  is  no  single  horse-tramp!  —  it  is  the 
foe  !  the  foe  ! — to  the  boat,  my  liege,  to  the  boat  pour  Vamour 
des  deux  /" 

"  Thy  fear  for  us,  and  not  thy  reason  speaks,  brave  Bourci- 
caut — see  'tis  the  man  himself!  Hail,  all  hail,  my  gallant 
Dunois!  —  How  didst  thou  'scape  the  dogs  of  England?  — 
quick,  quick  —  on  board  !  we  will  delay  no  longer!" 

"  Pour  le  coup,  beau  sire  —  we  are  in  safety,"  replied  the 
knight.  "  'Tis  old  Baudricourt  from  Vaucouleurs,  come  witl. 


ROYALTY    IN    DISGUISE.  151 

a  score  of  lances,  and  a  prophetess,  Heaven  save  the  mark ! 
to  raise  the  siege  of  Orleans,"  and  he  laughed  scornfully. 

"A  prophetess — ha!  Dunois  !  Is  she  fair  ?  —  and  young, 
Dunois  ?  A  maiden,  or  a  grandam  ? —  speak,  man — hast  lost 
thy  tongue  ?  By  all  the  saints  in  heaven,  but  we  will  see 
this  prophetess  !" 

"  Her  favor,  I  marked  not,  my  liege — nor  recked,  in  good 
sooth,  of  it!  —  The  constable  of  France  has  other  things  to 
look  to  besides  the  beauty  of  young  dames.  —  But  she  doth 
speak  of  visions — doth  aver  that  she  can  name  your  grace 
among  a  thousand  —  doth  demand  a  sword,  an  antique  sword, 
concealed  beneath  the  altar-stone  of  St.  Catharine  de  Fierbois 
—  doth  boast  that  she  will  raise  the  siege  of  Orleans,  and 
crown  your  highness  with  the  diadem  of  Clovis,  in  the  high 
church  of  Rheims.  Old  Baudricourt  doth  vouch  most  strongly 
for  her  inspiration.  Rank  mummery,  I  trow — rank  mummery !" 

"  By  Heaven !  but  we  would  see  more  of  this,"  replied  the 
prince,  not  wholly  untinctured  by  the  superstition  of  the  age. 
"Where  loiters  this  fair  prophetess?  —  Lead  on,  Dunois! 
Lead  on  our  martial  Mercury  !" 

"  Nay,  but  —  my  liege,"  interrupted  the  blunt  warrior,  "  if 
that  you  deem  it  worth  the  while  to  speak  with  this  same  jug 
gler,  what  if  you  don  the  garb  and  mount  the  horse  of  Bourci- 
caut  —  or,  better  yet,  do  on  the  liveries  of  Hugonet,  he  is  about 
your  grace's  years,  and  not  ill-favored  —  let  him  mount  your 
gay  Arabian,  and  play  king  for  the  nonce  !  A  hundred  marks 
of  gold  she  greets  him  as  the  sovereign !" 

"Well  thought  of,  by  mine  honor  —  it  shall  be  so.  Here, 
Hugonet,  thy  livery  cloak,  and  boots  —  soh !  —  now  thine 
hunting-pole,  aye,  and  the  leash  of  spaniels.  —  I  had  forgot 
the  bonnet,  and  the  lures  !  Methinks  if  English  Henry  win 
our  father's  throne,  that  we  can  earn  our  bread,  indifferent 
well,  as  varlet  to  this  island  lord'  of  France  !  Now,  boy,  don 


152  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

thou  my  hunting  jerkin,  and  my  russet  buskins.  —  Thou'st 
buckled  on  the  golden  spurs  betimes  —  'tis  a  good  omen,  Hu- 
gonet ;  who  knows  but  one  day  thou  shalt  win  them  !  —  My 
tocque  and  feather  —  faith  but  thou  showest  a  gallant  gentle 
man —  and  here,  take  Bright-eye,  and  my  hawking-glove. 
Buckle  this  diamond  bauble  round  thy  collar,  and  thou  art, 
every  inch,  a  king.  Soh  !  Brave  Gazelle  —  stand  —  stand, 
good  horse,  and  bear  thine  honors  meekly,"  and  doffing  his 
felt  bonnet  sportively,  the  monarch  held  the  stirrup  for  his 
serving  man.  "  On  —  on,  Dunois,  we  fain  would  try  the  truth 
of  this  your  prophetess  !  —  Lead  on  !" 

"  It  needs  not  —  here  they  come,"  cried  Dunois.  "  Unbon- 
net  yourselves,  gentlemen  —  unbonnet  all,  save  Hugonet  —  I 
go  to  warn  old  Baudricourt !"  and  in  an  instant  he  dashed  for 
ward  to  the  advancing  party. 

It  was  a  subject  for  a  painter  that  brief  interview.  The 
pretended  king,  bearing  himself  worthily  of  his  part,  sat  a  lit 
tle  in  advance  of  the  nobles,  on.  the  finely-formed  Arabian ; 
while  close  beside  his  stirrup  stood  the  true  prince,  in  rude 
garb  and  clownish  attitude,  now  playing  with  the  dogs,  now 
gazing  with  feigned  indifference,  but  real*  anxiety,  at  the  ap 
proaching  group.  On  the  other  hand,  were  the  old  governor 
of  Vaucouleurs  bending  his  mailed  form  over  his  saddle-bow 
in  feigned  respect,  the  stately  knights  behind  him,  motionless 
as  statues  of  solid  steel,  save  that  the  pennons  of  their  long 
lances  fluttered  freely  in  the  breeze,  and  the  prophet-maiden, 
her  dark  locks  floating  on  the  air,  her  bosom  panting,  as  it 
were,  and  laboring  with  the  spirit  that  worked  within,  her 
wild  eye  flashing  with  the  speed  and  brilliancy  of  lightning 
over  every  person  jrf  the  party. 

"Come  forth,"  she  said,  at  length  —  "Come  forth,  thou 
Royal  Eagle  !"  —  She  spoke,  not  with  the  bashful  rusticity  of 
a  peasant-maid,  but  with  a  high  and  free  demeanor  that  might 


THE    TEST.  153 

have  beseemed  the  heiress  to  a  line  of  sovereigns,  waving  her 
hand  toward  the  disguised  prince  with  an  eager  and  inquiring 
gesture  :  "  Come  forth,  thou  noble  bird — nor  let  the  base  and 
carrion  vulture  put  on  thy  semblance  !  Monarch  of  France  ! 
I  bid  thee  hail.  I,  Joan,  the  Maid  of  Arc.  —  Even  as  thou 
throwest  by  those  servile  trappings,  even  as  thou  doest  on  thy 
proper  garb,  so,  by  the  grace  of  Him  who  sent  me,  so  shalt 
thou  dash  aside  the  proud  invaders,  so  don  the  crown,  and 
mount  the  throne,  of  glory  !" 

"Maiden,  I  hail  the  omen  —  I  accept  the  messenger  —  I 
bless  the  God  who  sent  thee  !"  cried  the  enthusiastic  youth, 
tossing  aside  his  disguise,  and  springing  forward  in  his  own 
noble  and  natural  bearing.  Astonishment  was  painted  on  the 
lineaments  of  all  —  and  even  the  sneer  that  sat  upon  the  lip  of 
the  dark  constable,  relaxed  into  a  smile. 

"  '  Tis  strange,"  he  muttered  — "  passing  strange  !  — and  yet" — 
"  Yet  what,  proud  noble  ?  —  I  tell  thee  I  will  move  the 
world,  but  men  shall  know  me  for  the  holy  thing  I  am,  and 
speed  me  to  the  duties  for  which  I  am  ordained.  —  Knowing 
of  myself  nothing,  yet  do  I  know  all  things.  I  know  that  thou, 
Dunois,  that  thou  didst  counsel  this  disguise  ;  as  if  a  web  of 
mortal  texture  could  cheat  the  eyes,  that  see  with  the  perva 
ding  vision  of  the  All-seeing.  I  know  that  three  nights  since 
—  even  at  the  hour  when  first  the  power  and  the  sign  were 
sent  to  me  —  thou,  Charles  of  France,  didst  sit  and  gaze  from 
the  dark  battlements  of  Chinon,  over  the  mournful  murmurings 
of  the  Loire  ;  I  know  that  thou  didst  raise  thy  voice,  the  voice 
of  thy  inmost  soul,  to  the  Lord — even  to  the  Lord  of  hosts  — 
beseeching  him  to  nerve  thine  arm,  and  save  thy  people  —  and 
lo,  HE  hath  sent  ME  !  —  I  know,  that,  ere  an  hour  had  passed 
away,  the  prayer  and  the  mournful  river  were  alike  forgotten 
in  the  dream  of  luxury  and  dalliance  ;  that  the  ardent  aspira 
tions  of  thy  spirits  were  forgotten,  as  thy  heart  beat  fast  and 

7* 


154  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

hot  to  the  responsive  heart  of  that  young  beauty  —  I  know  that 
the  dark  and  quiet  heavens,  which  heard  and  registered  thy 
vow,  were  banished  from  thy  memory  by  the  brighter  heavens 
that  smiled  upon  thee  from  the  eyes"  — 

"  Enough  !  enough  !"  shouted  the  king,  fearful  perhaps  lest 
she  should  disclose  more  of  her  knowledge,  whether  it  were 
indeed  supernatural  or  merely  the  result  of  intelligence  and 
shrewd  deceit.  "  Were  I  as  incredulous  as  the  Apostle  of 
old — may  he  vouchsafe  us  his  most  holy  aid  —  I  were  con 
vinced !  To  horse  —  to  horse!  we  will  to  Poictiers  to  our 
parliament ;  they  shall  acknowledge  thee,  and  thou  shalt  lead 
our  hosts  to  glory !  Follow  us  to  Poictiers  !" 

"  Not  so,  sir  king  —  not  so  !  Mine  is  a  heavenly  mission  ; 
thine  but  an  earthly  bidding.  I  go  to  the  chapel  of  St.  Catharine 
de  Fierbois,  for  I  must  travel  in  the  road  of  Him  who  sent  me. 
Beneath  the  altar-stone  there  lies  a  sword  —  an  ancient  sword 
—  the  weapon  of  St.  Denys,  and  by  this  sign  shalt  thou  know 
it.  On  its  pommel  there  is  a  skull  of  gold,  and  for  its  guard 
five  fleurs-de-lis  of  the  same  precious  metal.  Five  hundred 
years  hath  it  lain  in  that  damp  grave,  but  rust  may  not  darken, 
nor  the  cold  dews  of  the  charnel-house  consume  that,  which 
the  Lord  did  consecrate.  With  that  sword  must  I  go  forth  to 
battle  —  with  that  sword  must  I  drive  back  the  foes  of  France 
like  howling  wolves  —  with  that  sword  must  I  redeem  the  dia 
dem  of  Clovis,  to  place  it  on  thine  anointed  brows,  even  in  the 
high  church  of  Rheims  !  Follow,  nobles  and  knights,  follow 
me  rather,  to  the  chapel  of  Fierbois  !" 

And  they  rode  on  to  that  ancient  shrine,  and  mass  was  said 
by  the  prior,  and  anthems  chanted  by  the  assembled  monks ; 
but  neither  monk  nor  prior  knew,  nor  ere  had  heard,  of  that 
mysterious  sword.  And  the  altar-stone  was  moved  from  its 
deep  foundations,  and  the  bones  of  the  dead  were  moA^ed,  and 
there,  in  the  dark  mould  of  the  grave,  found  they  the  sword  of 


THE    PARLIAMENT.  155 

St.  Denys,  with  the  skull  of  gold  on  the  pommel,  and  the  fleurs- 
de-lis  on  the  guard,  and  the  blue  steel  bright  and  burnished, 
as  though  it  had  been  forged  but  yesterday ;  and  the  maiden 
girded  it  by  her  side,  and  cried  out  in  a  high  and  clear  tone, 
"  By  this  sign  shall  ye  know  me  that  I  am  sent, -for  is  it  not 
written  in  HIS  holy  book — '  Gird  thy  sword  upon  thy  thigh,  O 
most  mighty,  with  thy  glory  and  thy  majesty.  And  in  thy 
majesty  ride  prosperously,  because  of  truth,  and  meekness,  and 
righteousness,  and  thy  right  hand  shall  teach  terrible  things.' " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    RECOGNITION. 

Alex.  Leave  off  delays,  and  let  us  raise  the  siege. 

Reig.  "Woman,  do  what  thou  canst  to  save  our  honors, 
Drive  them  from  Orleans,  and  be  immortalized. 

SHAKSPERE. 

IN  a  vast  Gothic  hall,  within  the  ancient  walls  of  Poictiers, 
the  parliament  of  France  had  been  convened,  during  the  occu 
pation  of  the  capital  by  their  brave  invaders.  They  had  come 
together,  the  peers,  both  temporal  and  spiritual  of  the  realm,  in 
full  numbers,  and  in  all  the  gorgeous  magnificence  of  the 
feudal  ages  ;  nor  would  it  be  easy  to  conceive  a  scene  of  more 
exalted  splendor  than  that  which  was  presented  by  this  august 
assemblage.  The  long  hall,  lighted  on  either  hand  by  a  row 
of  tall,  lanceolated  windows,  through  which  the  daylight 
streamed,  not  in  its  garish  lines  of  unmellowed  lustre,  but  ten 
der,  rich,  and  melancholy,  through  the  medium  of  the  thousand 
hues,  in  which  were  blazoned  on  the  narrow  panes  the  bear- 


156  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

ings  of  many  a  noble  house  ;  the  clustered  columns  hung  with 
gigantic  suits  of  armor  ;  the  fantastic  carvings  of  the  capitals  ; 
the  groining  of  the  vaulted  roof,  with  the  bannered  trophies  of 
ten  centuries  swaying  to  and  fro  in  the  light  currents  of  air 
that  played  through  the  hall  ;  the  long  central  table,  with  its 
rich  covering  of  crimson  velvet,  and  the  displayed  insignia  of 
royalty,  the  sword,  the  sceptre,  and  the  mace  of  Charlemagne ; 
the  throne,  with  its  massive  gilding,  and  its  canopy  of  cloth 
of  gold ;  all  had  been  prepared  with  as  much  of  elaborate 
taste,  as  though  a  victorious  monarch  were  about  to  receive  the 
congratulations  of  his  assembled  feudatories,  in  the  high  places 
of  his  hereditary  dominion.  Far  different,  however,  from  the 
splendor  which  surrounded  them  on  every  side,  was  the  ex 
pression  that  sat,  with  hardly  an  exception,  on  every  brow 
through  that  proud  conclave.  It  was  one  pervading  universal  • 
expression  of  restless  anxiety,  of  universal  dismay.  Old 
knights  were  there,  whose  beards  had  grown  long  and  hoary 
beneath  the  helmet,  which  had  scarcely  left  their  brows  since 
the  distant  days  of  their  boyhood ;  men  who  had  proved  and 
rued  the  discipline  and  valor  of  the  English  yeomanry  at 
Cressy  and  Poictiers  ;  men,  over  whom  a  silent  century  had 
sped  its  course,  and  left  them  broken  in  body,  but  untamed  in 
spirit,  and  unsubdued  in  intellect ;  chiefs  were  there,  whose 
maiden  swords  had,  for  the  first  time,  gleamed  on  the  disastrous 
field  of  Agincourt — chiefs,  to  whom  the  deadly  onset  was 
dearer  than  the  voluptuous  dance,  the  maddening  clamor  of 
the  trumpet  more  congenial  than  the  minstrel's  lute  ;  but  of  the 
hundreds  who  sat  in  long  array  —  in  ermined  robes  and  caps 
of  maintenance,  scarce  one  in  fifty  had  passed  the  middle  age 
of  manhood.  The  noblesse  of  France  had  been  fearfully  deci 
mated  by  the  merciless  sword  of  England,  which  had  converted 
their  finest  provinces  into  sterile  and  uncultivated  deserts. 
Year  after  year  had  brought  the  same  dark  tidings  of  defeat 


MAILED    COSTUME    OF    THE    XVTH    CENTURY.  157 

and  desolation,  of  captivity  and  death.  The  burgonets  of  an 
cient  houses,  for  the  most  part,  pressed  the  sunny  locks  of 
boyhood  ;  and  the  task  of  deliberating  on  the  weal  of  kingdoms 
had,  for  the  most  part,  descended  to  the  gallant  youth,  more 
fitted  to  chant  love-ditties  in  the  bower  of  willing  beauty,  or  to 
fight  with  impetuous  ardor  in  the  first  ranks  of  the  battle,  than 
to  frame  laws,  or  to  solve  nice  points  of  casuistry.  A  yet 
more  remarkable  token  of  the  insecurity  of  the  times,  was  to  be 
found  in  the  shirts  of  linked  mail,  or  coats  of  plate,  which  were 
universally  worn  beneath  the  ermined  garments  of  the  senators 
—  in  the  concourse  of  pages  and  esquires  without,  bearing  each 
the  casque,  the  buckler,  and  the  weapons  of  his  lord  —  and  in 
the  barbed  war-horses,  that  were  led  to  and  fro,  in  full  capari 
son,  beneath  the  windows  of  the  council-chamber.  More  in 
congruous  yet  would  it  have  appeared  to  modern  eyes,  could 
they  have  witnessed  the  highest  dignitaries  of  the  church, 
clad  like  their  temporal  brethren,  in  all  the  panoply  of  warfare  ; 
yet  there  were  present  at  least  a  score  of  these  literal  members 
of  a  church  militant,  who  would  have  been,  perhaps,  more 
familiar  with  the  usage  of  the  lance  than  of  the  crosier,  and  to 
whose  lips  the  banner-cry  of  their  families  would  have  risen 
more  promptly  than  mass  or  benediction. 

Assembled  as  these  nobles  were,  ready  alike  for  combat  or 
for  council,  it  would  seem  that  there  was  yet  a  something 
wanting  ere  they  could  proceed  to  business  ;  impatient  glances 
were  thrown  toward  the  sun,  that  was  already  riding  high  in 
the  heavens,  and  to  the  throne,  which  was  as  yet  unoccupied. 
Nor  was  this  all ;  murmurs  of  disapprobation  were  beginning 
to  be  heard,  even  among  the  most  volatile  spirits  of  the  parlia 
ment,  while  the  more  aged  councillors  knit  their  dark  brows 
and  shook  their  heads,  boding  no  good  to  France  or  its  inhab 
itants,  so  long  as  its  destinies  should  be  swayed  by  a  monarch 
ever  willing  to  postpone  the  most  serious  duties  for  the  prose- 


158  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

cution  of  some  headlong  sport,  or  of  some  licentious  amour. 
It  was,  perhaps,  with  a  view  of  calling  the  attention  of  the 
court  to  this  strange  neglect  of  the  reigning  sovereign  —  for 
the  sway  of  monarchs  was  vastly  abridged  by  the  power  of 
their  higher  vassals  —  that  the  bishop  of  Senlis,  a  tall,  iron- 
limbed,  and  hard-featured  prelate,  who  wore  his  cape  and  robes 
over  a  suit  of  Milan  steel  superbly  damasked  with  gold,  which 
clanked  omniously  as  he  strode  to  the  central  table,  rose  as  if 
to  speak.  Scarcely,  however,  had  he  broken  silence,  before  a 
cry  was  heard  without  —  "  Room  !  room  !  for  the  king ! — room  ! 
for  the  bold  Dunois — room!  for  the  prophet-maiden" — follow 
ed  by  cheering  so  tumultuous  that  the  banners  flapped  heavily, 
as  if  a  mighty  wind  had  fallen  upon  their  folds,  and  not  a  few 
of  the  younger  nobles  sprang  to  their  feet  in  astonishment. 

In  an  instant  the  doors  were  thrown  open  ;  and  well  might 
the  nobles  gaze  in  wonder  at  the  group  that  entered.  With 
his  wonted  impetuosity,  Charles  had  not  stopped,  even  for  a 
moment's  space,  to  alter  his  attire,  ere  he  entered  the  presence 
of  his  peers  —  springing  from  his  horse,  and  casting  its  rein  to 
the  esquire  in  waiting,  commanding  his  attendants  to  follow 
without  delay,  he  rushed  into  the  supreme  council  of  his  na 
tion  in  his  hunting-dress,  with  the  stains  of  the  chase  fresh 
upon  spur  and  buskin.  This  would,  however,  have  called 
forth  no  surprise  on  the  part  of  the  peers,  accustom'ed,  as  they 
long  had  been,  to  the  extravagances  of  the  young  king,  who, 
though  he  could,  when  it  listed  him  so  to  do,  debate  as  sagely 
as  the  wisest  of  their  number,  or  array  a  host,  with  his  own 
lance  for  leading  staff,  as  soldierly  as  any,  save  perhaps  Dunois, 
was  just  as  likely  to  fling  away  from  business  of  the  most  en 
grossing  interest  to  mingle  in  the  dance  or  lead  the  hunt.  On 
the  entrance  of~Charles,  indecorous  as  was  the  speed  with 
which  he  strode  up  the  hall,  and  unsuited  as  was  his  garb  to 
the  occasion,  all  had  arisen  and  several  of  the  highest  dignity 


MURMURS    OF    DISGUST.  159 

advanced  as  if  to  conduct  him  to  the  throne ;  but  when  Dunois 
was  seen  to  pass  the  threshold  with  the  prophet-maiden  sup 
ported  on  his  stalwart  arm,  a  general  murmur  of  disgust  passed 
along  the  crowded  benches,  and  seemed  about  to  swell  into 
notes  of  deeper  and  more  fearful  import.  Nor  indeed  was  she 
a  spectacle  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  scene.  In  an  age  when 
the  greatest  possible  veneration  was  paid  to  rank,  and  when 
humble  parentage  was  almost  deemed  a  crime,  it  was  scarcely 
possible  that  the  haughtiest  council  of  Europe  would  brook 
the  intrusion — even  when  sanctioned  by  their  monarch  —  of  a 
mere  peasant-girl  into  their  solemn  halls  of  audience.  At  this 
moment,  too,  there  was  another,  and  yet  a  stronger  reason  for 
the  anger  of  the  peers.  They  doubted  not  but  that  Charles, 
with  a  degree  of  levity  which  he  had  never  before  reached, 
even  in  his  wildest  moments  of  license,  was  introducing  a  par 
amour  to  their  august  presence  —  a  peasant  paramour.  Yet, 
had  they  looked  on  the  speaking  lineaments,  rather  than  on 
the  frock  of  serge  and  leathern  girdle  —  had  they  marked  the 
flash  of  her  dark  eye,  as  she  gazed  around  her,  unawed  by  the 
dignity,  and  undisturbed  by  the  displeasure  of  the  parliament 
— had  they  marked  the  indignant  expression,  the  curl  of  her 
lip,  and  the  expansion  of  her  nostrils,  as  she  caught  the  sound 
of  some  disparaging  epithet — had  they  cared  to  read  the 
meaning  of  the  deep  crimson  flush,  that  rushed  over  her  cheek 
and  brow,  they  could  not,  for  a  second's  space,  have  deemed 
her  a  thing  of  infamy,  perhaps  they  scarcely  could  have  be 
lieved  her  other  than  a  scion  of  some  time-honored  race. 

It  was  but  for  a  moment,  however,  that  the  tumult — for  the 
manifestation  of  anger  had  reached  a  pitch  which  almost  justi 
fied  that  title  —  was  permitted  to  endure.  The  best  and  noblest 
of  the  peers  rushed  forward,  though  scarcely  less  indignant 
than  their  fellows,  to  enforce  silence  at  least,  if  not  respect  and 
homage. 


.160 


THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 


"  How  now,  my  lieges  !"  cried  the  youthful  king,  standing 
erect  in  the  centre  of  the  hall,  «  have  you  no  warmer  welcome 
for  your  sovereign  than  these  tumultuous  clamors  ?  — methinks 
such  tones  were  best  reserved  till  we  join  fronts  with  Eng 
land's  archery ;  and  then,  my  lords,  will  Charles  send  forth 
his  voice  to  swell  the  war-cry  of  his  fathers !  —  MONT  JOY 
SAINT  DENIS  !" 

"  But  little  chance  is  there,  beau  sire,"  interrupted  the  war 
rior-bishop,  with  a  freedom  of  speech  that  would  at  any  time 
have  been  deemed  to  border  upon  discourtesy  at  least,  if  not 
on  treason -"But  little  chance  is  there,  beau  sire,  that 
France's  nobles  should  be  summoned  to  other  conflict  than 
that  of  the  midnight  banquet  or  the  morning  chase,  by  a  prince 
who  deems  it  fitting  his  own  dignity  to  lead  his  low-born  con 
cubines  into  the  very  halls  of  his  high  parliament !- And  for 
that  matter,  little  chance  is  there  that  they  would  heed  his  bid 
ding,  even  should  he,  in  some  wild  caprice,  unfold  the  ori- 
flamme,  and  call  his  vassals  to  the  field  of  honor." 

"  Sayest  thou,  sir  bishop  !"  shouted  the  gallant  boy,  his  brow 
crimsoning  with  the  eloquent  blood  of  indignation  — «  sayest 
thou-and  to  me  ?     Now,  by  the  honor  of  a  child  of  France, 
thou  shalt  account  to  me  for  this  outrage.     Ho!  Dunois— ' 
summon  our  guards,  and  let  yon  brawler  learn  if  cope  and 
cowl  should  buckler  such  a  cause  as  he  has  dared  uphold  this 
morning.     Nay,  speak  not  for  him,  Dunois— nor  thou,  fair 
prophetess ;   for  by  my  father's   soul,   Senlis   shall  lose'  her 
bishop  ere  the  sun  set.     Our  guards  !  what  ho  !  our  guards  !" 
The  gates  were  flung  open  at  the   monarch's  cry ;  and  a 
dozen  sergeants  of  the  guard,  in  royal  liveries,  with  partisans 
advanced,  and  swords  already  glittering  in  the  sunshine,  were 
seen  without  the  archway.     «  Forward  !  my  guards,"  he  cried 
again  in  a  yet  louder  voice.      -  Bertrand  de   Montmorenci, 
seize  yon  factious  bishop— seize  him  !"  he  continued,  seeing 


THE    KING    AND    THE    BISHOP.  161 

some  slight  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the  officer — "  seize  him, 
were  he  at  the  holy  altar  —  ourselves  will  reckon  with  the 
mother-church !" 

Slowly  the  guards  marched  forward,  in  compact  and  steady 
order ;  and  so  silent  was  that  assembly,  which  had  but  a  mo 
ment  before  showed  like  the  ocean  billows  chafing  beneath 
the  tempest,  that  not  a  sound  was  heard,  save  the  heavy  tramp 
of  the  armed  warders,  as  they  advanced  to  do  the  bidding  of 
their  monarch.  The  haughty  prelate  stood  erect  and  fearless, 
meeting  the  glowing  features  and  flashing  eye  of  the  youthful 
king  with  an  expression  as  proud,  a  port  as  fearless,  as  his 
own.  The  guards  drew  nigher,  and  yet  nigher ;  but,  at  the 
very  instant  when  they  were  about  to  lay  hands  on  the  offen 
der,  as  if  by  a  common  impulse,  the  whole  assembled  peerage 
advanced  a  nace  or  two,  as  if  to  assert  the  privilege  of  parlia 
ment  ;  and  although  no  word  or  gesture  of  violence  had  as  yet 
occurred,  it  became  evident  even  to  the  prince  that  the  sense 
of  the  assemblage  was  against  him,  and  that  a  tumult,  the  des 
perate  nature  of  which  might  be  conjectured  from  the  deter 
mined  silence  of  the  actors,  must  be  the  result  of  his  persisting 
in  the  arrest  of  his  seditious  noble.  Still  there  was  no  touch 
of  fear  or  hesitation  in  his  noble  spirit.  "  Speak  not  to  me, 
Dunois,''  he  replied,  in  a  hoarse,  low  whisper,  as  his  best 
councillor  implored  him  to  be  prudent — "speak  not  to  we. 
I  am  the  king  of  France  !  and  never  did  king  brook  so  foul  a 
contumely  from  the  lips  of  subject.  No !  Let  them  murther 
me,  if  they  will,  in  my  own  courts  of  parliament,  and  write  in 
the  records  of  their  house,  that  the  peers  of  France  have 
deemed  it  worthy  of  their  own,  and  of  their  country's  honor, 
to  slay  the  heir  of  Charlemagne  for  upholding  his  own  good 
name.  Speak  noi  to  me  ;  for  by  the  blessed  sun  that  sees  us 
both,  Albert  of  Senlis,  or  Charles  of  France,  shall  close  his 
eyes  this  night  upon  those  splendors,  never  to  see  them  more  !" 


162  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

As  he  spoke,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  hunting- 
sword,  and  advanced  in  person  to  seize,  with  his  own  hand, 
the  haughty  churchman.  A  hoarse,  low  murmur  ran  through 
the  hall,  like  the  shuddering  breath  that  agitates  the  woodland 
before  the  coming  of  the  tempest,  but  he  marked  or  recked  it 
not — another  instant  would  have  unsheathed  a  thousand  swords, 
and  the  miseries  of  that  unhappy  realm  would  have  been  aug 
mented  yet  more  terribly  by  the  mutual  strife  and  slaughter  of 
those,  who  should  have  been  her  best  defenders.  The  bishop 
still  stood  erect ;  and  now,  confident  of  the  support  of  the 
banded  feudatories,  a  smile  curled  his  lip,  and  he  perused, 
with  a  half-contemptuous  expression,  the  lineaments  of  the 
king  as  he  strode  on  to  seize  him,  followed  by  the  resolute 
though  still  reluctant  Dunois.  At  this  critical  moment,  \vhen 
another  word  or  action  would  have  given  rise  to  deeds,  which 
never  could  have  been  recalled,  the  Maid  of  Arc  stood  for 
ward. 

"  Forbear !"  she  cried,  in  a  voice  so  higli  and  musical  that, 
even  in  that  moment  of  excitement  and  impending  violence,  it 
fell  on  every  ear  with  a  soothing  sound,  and  arrested  every  im 
petuous  arm  —  "  Forbear  !  thou  child  of  France  —  and  thou,  sir 
bishop.  Shame !  —  Shame,  that  a  minister  of  holy  church  should 
be  a  minister  of  wrath  and  evil.  Hear  me  !"  she  continued,  with 
animation  still  increasing  as  she  spoke  — "  Nobles  and  knights 
of  France  hear  me,  the  MESSENGER  OF  HEAVEN  !  I  have 
come  by  the  will  of  THE  FATHER,  to  save  the  sons  of  France 
from  the  polluting  blight  of  the  invader  !  —  I,  a  peasant-maiden, 
who  lay  down  to  rest,  and  rose  up  to  labor,  with  no  higher 
thoughts  than  of  my  daily  toils  —  I,  Joan  of  Arc,  am  sent  by 
the  MOST  HIGH  to  lead  the  hosts,  and  wield  the  sword  of  ven 
geance  !  A  few  short  hours  since  were  my  .words  rude,  and  my 
thoughts  lowly ;  now,  by  gift  of  HIM  who  sent  me,  my  speech 
is  eloquent,  my  breast  is  full  of  high  and  glorious  aspirations, 


HER    STIRRING    APPEAL    TO    ARMS.  163 

my  soul  is  rich  with  wisdom !  Start  not,  nor  doubt  my  words, 
for  I  have  proved  them  !  See  ye  this  blade  ?"  and  she  waved 
it  triumphantly  above  her  head.  "This  blade  —  once  of  St. 
Denis,  now  of  a  mightier  than  St.  Denis  ?  Five  dark  and 
silent  centuries  hath  it  lain  in  the  mouldering  tomb,  unknown, 
unnoted,  and  forgotten,  for  it  was  unneeded  !  But  the  voice 
which  roused  me  from  my  sleep  of  ignorance  revealed  it. 
The  Lord  of  Hosts  hath  need  of  an  avenger,  and  he  hath 
armed  her  for  the  field  with  that  miraculous  sword,  which  shall 
be  red  as  crimson  with  the  proudest  blood  of  England.  Nobles 
and  knights,  to  arms  —  your  king,  your  country,  and  your  God, 
call  you  to  arms !  Ere  six  months  have  elapsed,  I  tell  ye, 
France  shall  be  delivered.  I  tell  ye  that  the  oriflamme  shall 
float'  in  glory  o'er  the  walls  of  Orleans.  I  tell  ye  that  this 
child  of  France  shall  buckle  on  the  sword,  and  shall  be  crown 
ed  with  the  crown  of  Charlemagne  in  the  high  church  of 
Rheims  —  and  by  thy  hands,  lord  bishop  !  Princes,  and  pala 
dins,  and  peers,  I  do  conjure  you  by  a  sign,  I  do  command 
ye  by  a  power  which  ye  see  not,  but  must  obey !  To  arms 
for  France  and  Freedom !  To  arms  for  France  and  Ven 
geance  !  It  is  the  will  of  God  !" 

Strange  had  been  the  emotions  of  those  high  spirits  during 
the  appeal  of  the  peasant-maiden ;  pride,  at  first,  and  contempt 
were  painted  on  every  scowling  brow ;  but  as  her  words 
waxed  powerful  and  high,  as  her  voice  flowed  like  the  con 
tinued  blast  of  a  silver  trumpet,  as  her  bosom  heaved  with  in 
spiration,  and  as  her  dark  eyes  flashed  with  supernatural  lus 
tre,  contempt  and  pride  were  lost  in  astonishment  and  admira 
tion.  She  struck  the  key  of  their  insulted  patriotism,  and  they 
burned  —  she  spoke  to  their  superstitions,  and  they  well  nigh 
trembled  —  she  asserted  the  assistance  of  a  power  which  they 
must  obey  ;  and  the  proudest,  the  noblest,  the  haughtiest  as 
sembly  of  the  Christian  world  heard  —  and  they  did  obey. 


164  THE    FORTUMES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

One  voice  —  as  she  concluded  her  fervid  harangue  —  one 
powerful  voice  sent  forth  her  last  words,  shouting  them  as 
though  they  were  a  battle-cry  — "  To  arms  !  It  is  the  will  of 
God !"  It  was  the  voice  of  the  best  and  bravest — it  was  the 
voice  of  the  stern  Dimois. 

From  heart  to  heart  it  ran  like  an  electric  shock  — 
from  lip  to  lip  it  pealed  —  "  To  arms  —  for  France  and  Free 
dom  !  To  arms  —  for  France  and  Vengeance  !  It  is  the  will 
of  God  !"  Louder  it  rang,  and  louder,  till  battlement  and  tur 
ret  seemed  to  rock  before  the  earthquake  clamor,  and  the 
maiden  read  the  certainty  of  triumph  in  the  enthusiastic  con 
fidence  of  those  she  was  about  to  lead  to  victory. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE    RELIEF    OF    ORLEANS. 

Pucelle. — Advance  our  waving  colors  on  the  wall ; 

Rescued  is  Orleans  from  the  English  Wolves : 
Thus  Joan  la  Pucelle  has  performed  her  word. 

ALL  night  long  the  streets  of  Blois  had  rung  with  the  wild 
est  confusion.  War-drum  and  nakir  mingled  their  long  rolling 
cadences  with  the  shrill  flourish  of  horn  and  trumpet,  and  the 
tinkling  clang  of  cymbals.  The  blacksmiths'  forges  blazed 
red  and  lurid,  while  the  strong-limbed  artisans  plied  their 
massive  hammers  to  shape  and  bend  the  shoes  of  the  huge 
destriers,  that  pawed  and  snorted  round  the  smithies.  Pages 
and  squires  were  hurrying  to  and  fro  with  helms  and  hauberks, 
to  be  polished  or  repaired  for  to-morrow's  service  —  wagons 
laden  with  wine  and  wheat,  wrere  dragged  along  the  ill-paved 


DIN    AND    NOTE    OF    PREPARATION.  165 

streets,  groaning  and  creaking  with  their  own  weight,  by  the 
reluctant  oxen — ever  and  anon  a  piece  of  rude  and  cumbrous 
ordnance,  shaped  like  a  cask  with  bars  of  hammered  iron, 
hooped  into  the  form  of  tubes  by  solid  rings  of  the  same  metal, 
was  hauled  along  with  yet  mightier  effort,  amidst  the  shouts 
of  the  fierce  soldiery. 

Still,  among  all  the  din  and  note  of  preparation,  there  was 
naught  of  riot  or  debauchery — no  healths  pottle-deep  —  no 
carousings  round  the  midnight  watch-fires — no  squeaking  of 
rote  or  gittern  —  no  lascivious  dances,  or  loose  songs  of  cour 
tesan  and  jongleur!  —  all  was  stern,  grave,  and  business-like. 
Men  felt  as  if  they  were  on  the  eve  of  a  dread  convulsion — 
of  a  mighty  effort — they  passed  to  and  fro,  as  the  exigencies 
of  the  time  required,  with  bent  brows  and  long-determined 
strides;  their  conversation  was  in  short  stern  whispers!  — 
The  spirit  of  THE  MAIDEN  was  among  them — the  very  men, 
who  a  few  short  weeks  before  had  been  all  fickleness  and 
levity,  who  would  have  endured  death  itself  more  willingly 
than  the  curtailment  of  the  least  of  those  licenses,  which  they 
chose  to  call  their  liberty  —  these  very  men  now  moved  about 
in  silent  resolution,  too  full  of  purpose  to  leave  any  room  for 
levity  !  — They  swore  no  strange  oaths,  they  kneeled  humbly  at 
the  confessional,  they  bowed  themselves  in  awestruck  adoration 
before  the  shrines  of  their  patron-saints  !  —  They  were  now  the 
stuff  whereof  to  model  conquerors  —  their  minds  were  strung 
to  the  very  pitch  —  and  therefore  they  were  well-nigh  certain 
of  success. 

As  the  night  wore  away,  and  the  stars  began  to  fade  in  the 
heavens,  the  banner-cries  of  the  different  companies,  the  en- 
seancies  of  ancient  houses,  and  the  gathering  shout  of  France, 
Montjoye  !  Montjoye  I  St.  Denis  !  pealed  fast  and  frequently  ; 
and  at  every  cry  the  ready  veterans  announced  their  presence 
at  the  banners  of  their  following  by  the  national  response  of 


166        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

Vive  le  rui !     The   great  place  in  the  centre  of  the  city  was 
thronged  well-nigh  to  suffocation  with  armed  multitudes.     The 
brave  gen-d'armerie  of  the  surrounding  districts,  mounted  on 
small  rugged  horses,  with  brigantines  of  leather  rudely  covered 
by  scales  of  rusty  steel,  long  lances,  and  helmets  without  either 
crest  or  vizor — Switzers  in  their  massive  coats  of  plate,  bur 
nished  till  every  rivet  shone  like  silver ;  bright  bacinets  upon 
their  heads,  and  in  their  hands   short  heavy  partisans  with 
blades  two  feet  in  length — Genoese  cross-bowmen  in  gaudy 
dresses,  and  light  shirts  of  chain-mail,  their  ponderous  weap 
ons  slung  across  their  shoulders  —  and  above  all,  the  men-at- 
arms,  the  flower  of  France,  sheathed  from  crest  to  spur  in 
complete  suits  of  mail  and  plate,  and  mounted  upon  steeds  of 
blood  and  bone  proportioned  to  the  weight  which  they  sup 
ported  ;  with  their  tilting  lances  eighteen  feet  in  length,  each 
having  a  gay  pennon  streaming  from  the  head,  their  axes  and 
maces  slung  on  either  hand  the  saddle,  their  huge  two-handed 
swords  extending,  as  they  sat  on  their  tall  war-horses,  from 
heel  to  shoulder — all  these  groped  beneath  the  projecting  bar 
tizans  and  around  the  Gothic  cross  of  the  market-place,  and 
partially  revealed  by  the  pale  moonlight  or  the  ruddy  glare  of 
torch  and   cresset,  presented  a  picture  to  which  the   gayest 
pomp  and  circumstance  of  modern  warfare  are  but  tame  and 
insignificant. 

Day  broke  at  length,  and  as  the  expected  rays  shot  upward 
from  the  horizon,  a  loud  nourish  of  trumpets  swelled  almost 
painfully  upon  the  ear,  accompanied  by  the  distant  acclama 
tions  of  the  populace.  Then  might  you  have  seen  the  war- 
steeds  toss  their  heads  and  paw  till  the  pavements  rang,  and 
the  riders  curbing  them  steadily  and  skilfully  into  the  ranks ; 
while  the  shouts  of  the  harbingers  and  fouriers  —  "  H a  !  de- 
lout,  messires !  debout  /"  and  the  redoubled  efforts  of  banner- 
men  and  esquires  restrained  them  in  their  ranks,  and  mar- 


THE    GATHERING    HOSTS.  167 

slialled  them,  after  much  tumult  and  confusion,  in  a  huge  hol 
low  square  around  the  market-place.  Nearer  the  trumpets 
flourished,  and  nearer  yet  —  then  there  arose  a  cry — a  single 
cry  swelled  by  a  thousand  voices  —  "the  king!  the  king!" 
Ten  thousand  men  stood  there,  but  not  a  spear  clashed,  not  a 
charger  pawed,  not  a  voice  or  whisper  could  be  heard  in  that 
vast  concourse  as  the  leaders  entered  the  place-of-arms. 

First  came  the  pursuivants,  riding  two  by  two  on  snow- 
white  horses,  clothed  in  tabards  of  murrey-colored  satin  semes 
with  fleurs-de-lis  of  gold,  and  in  their  hands  the  bannered 
trumpets,  with  the  royal  quarterings  of  France  glowing  in  rich 
heraldic  blazonry.  Then  came  Mantjoye  !  the  hereditary  king- 
at-arms,  in  his  emblazoned  coat,  one  solid  sheet  of  gems  and 
gold.  And  after  him  the  bold  Dunois,  on  his  black  Olivier, 
sheathed  in  his  plain  dark  panoply,  with  the  bend  sinister  of 
bastardy  crossing  the  arms  of  Orleans  on  his  triangular  buck 
ler,  and  his  vizor  at  half-spring,  showing  his  calm  observant 

eye  and  eagle  features  above  the  rim  of  the  raised  beaver 

the  plainest  and  the  simplest,  though,  perhaps,  the  most  rigid 
ly  complete  in  his  war-array  of  all  that  gallant  company. 
There  rode  not  there  a  knight,  on  whom  the  eye  of  one,  who 
loved  like  the  eighth  Henry  to  look  upon  a  man,  would  have 
dwelt  with  so  much  pleasure  as  on  the  bold  Dunois.  Behind 
him  came  the  knights  and  squires  of  his  body,  all  armed  ;  and 
after  him  a  standard-bearer,  gallantly  mounted,  and  holding 
aloft  a  banner  of  rich  yet  singular  device.  It  was  a  sheet  of 
pure  white  damask,  with  a  triple  tressure  of  golden  fleurs-de-lis, 
but  in  the  midst  of  there  was  emblazoned,  with  the  utmost  of 
the  herald's  skill,  a  figure,  which  it  would  now  be  deemed  the 
worst  profanity  thus  to  mingle  with  preparations  for  carnage 
and  destruction  —  it  was  the  figure  of  the  ONE  ETERNAL! 
grasping  in  his  hands  the  globes  celestial  and  terrestrial,  as 
when  at  the  instant  of  creation  he  launched  them  into  immen- 


168        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

sity  !  —  Profane,  however,  and  horrible  as  such  a  representation 
would  now  be  regarded,  it  was  then  looked  upon  far  otherwise  ; 
as  the  hallowed  banner  was  borne  into  the  market-place  every 
footman  sunk  upon  his  knee,  every  cavalier  bowed  his  crest  in 
meek  adoration,  every  weapon  of  war  was  lowered,  every  ban 
ner  veiled !  * 

They  arose  from  their  devotion,  and  before  them  stood  a 
pair  that  would  have  claimed  the  pencil  of  a  Raphael,  or  the 
pen  of  a  Froissart,  to  represent  them  justly.  On  the  king's 
chestnut  Arabian  —  strong  enough  to  be  the  war-horse  of  one 
so  slightly  framed  as  she,  who  reined  him  in  with  equal  skill 
and  grace  —  snorting  and  champing  on  his  bits  of  gold,  as  if 
proud  to  bear  so  proud  a  rider,  sat  the  prophet-maiden !  Her 
head  was  bare,  and  her  dark  locks  now  streamed  to  the  light 
wind  in  spiral  ringlets,  now  fell  in  heavy  masses  over  her 
polished  forehead  ;  her  throat  was  covered  to  the  chin  by  her 
bright  gorget ;  her  corslet,  cuishes,  and  greaves,  were  of  azure 
steel,  damasked  and  riveted  with  gold  ;  a  scarf  of  white  sen 
nit  fringed  with  gold  supported  the  sacred  weapon  of  St.  Denis, 
and  attached  to  the  cantle  of  her  demipique  swung  the  long 
lance  of  knighthood.  But  it  was  not  the  panoply  of  price,  nor 
the  high-mettled  charger,  but  the  beaming  eye,  the  glorious 
intellect,  the  all-pervading  soul,  the  untaught  flexibility  and 
grace  of  every  limb,  whether  in  action  or  repose,  that  stamped 
the  peasant-maid  of  Arc  as  one  of  nature's  aristocracy. 

Beside  her  bridle-rein  rode  Charles  the  Seventh,  like  his 
comrade  sheathed  in  armor,  and  like  her  with  his  head  un 
covered  ;  but  his  sunny  locks  and  bright  blue  eye  rendered 
his  countenance,  if  possible,  more  feminine,  on  a  slight  inspec- 

*  The  descriptions  of  the  armor  and  banners  here  introduced,  are  cor 
rectly  and  literally  true,  even  to  the  smallest  details ;  the  former  being 
preserved  to  this  day  in  the  armory  of  Rheims,  exactly  as  here  repre 
sented. 


THE    KING    IN    ARMOR.  169 

tion,  than  that  of  the  fair  being  at  his  side.  His  coat  of  plate 
was,  like  the  maiden's,  of  the  choicest  Milan  steel,  but,  unlike 
hers,  was  not  engraved  with  arabesques,  being  covered  entire 
ly  with  a  thin  coating  of  gold,  so  admirably  enamelled  upon 
the  stronger  metal,  that  no  violence  could  have  parted  them, 
and  presenting  the  appearance  of  an  entire  suit  of  golden 
armor  !  His  buckler  was  hung  about  his  neck  by  a  thong  of 
gilded  leather  plaited  upon  a  chain,  a  plain  field  of  azure  with 
the  urgent  fleurs-de-lis  of  France  ;  the  barbings  of  a  magnifi 
cent  bay-destrier,  which  he  bestrode  with  a  firm  seat,  yet  easy 
withal,  were  bright  plain  steel,  with  housings  of  azure  velvet. 
Two  pages,  in  common  half-armor,  with  steel  spurs  and  baci- 
nets,  but  neither  crest  or  vizor,  followed,  bearing  the  plumed 
casques  of  either  rider ;  and  behind  these  again  two  others, 
bearing,  one  the  lance  and  espaldron  of  the  monarch,  the  other 
the  buckler  and  axe  of  the  maiden.  The  rear  of  this  gorgeous 
cavalcade  was  brought  up  by  full  five  hundred  knights  of  every 
rank,  and  every  station  of  renown,  from  the  high  feudatories 
and  greater  barons  of  the  crown  —  some  bearing  ducal  coronets 
around  their  cerveillieres,  and  all  having  the  broad  pennon,  as 
distinguished  from  the  banderol,  attached  to  their  long  lances 
—  down  to  the  simple  bannerets,  and  young  esquires  burning 
to  win  their  spurs  in  the  first  field  of  glory.  As  the  monarch 
advanced  with  the  maiden  to  the  foot  of  the  Gothic  market- 
cross,  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  with  one  single  expression 
of  enthusiastic  love  and  admiration!  All  his  youthful  extrava 
gances,  all  his  mad  passions,  all  his  intrigues,  were  swept 
away,  forgotten  as  though  they  had  never  been,  in  the  joy  of 
all  sorts  and  classes  of  men  at  beholding  a  legitimate  king  of 
France  once  again  riding  forth  under  shield,  boldly  to  do  or 
die  !  He  spoke  not,  but  looked  slowly  round  the  circle  with  a 
cheerful  eye  ;  he  waved  his  hand,  and  the  count  of  Harcourt, 
one  of  the  oldest  and  most  noble  barons  of  the  realm,  displayed 

8 


170  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

the  sacred  oriflamme  of  France  —  a  banner  of  dark  green  satin, 
already  rent  in  many  places,  and  showing  the  effects  of  time 
which  only  rendered  it  the  more  venerable,  charged  with  a 
royal  diadem  of  gold,  surrounded  by  six  langues  of  flame, 
whence  it  derived  its  title.  Never  displayed  but  on  occasions 
the  most  holy  and  important,  its  very  appearance  on  the  field 
was  hailed  as  an  auspice  and  almost  as  a  pledge  of  victory ! — 
Scarcely  was  it  now  flung  abroad  to  the  free  winds,  before 
every  voice  throughout  the  crowded  ranks  went  up  to  heaven 
in  one  universal  soul-fraught  cry  — "  France  !  France  !  Mont- 
joye !  St.  Denis !"  The  trumpets  flourished  cheerily  and 
high,  the  word  was  given  for  the  march,  and  with  a  steady 
and  increasing  motion,  like  the  flowing  of  a  spring  tide,  that 
mighty  mass  rolled  onward,  and,  ere  an  hour  had  passed,  the 
streets  of  Blois  were  silent  and  deserted. 

As  soon  as  they  had  cleared  the  gates  of  the  borough,  they 
moved  forward  with  as  much  rapidity  as  was  consistent  with 
good  order  ;  and  three  hours  had  not  elapsed  before  the  van 
guard  were  in  view  of  the  lines  of  circumvallation,  which  had 
been  drawn  around  Orleans  by  the  English,  under  that  con 
summate  knight  and  leader,  the  regent  duke  of  Bedford. 

At  this  point  they  made  a  wide  circuit  under  the  very  guns 
of  the  British  bastions,  to  gain  the  banks  of  the  broad  Loire, 
but  strange  to  say  no  shot  was  fired  from  the  heavy  ordnance, 
no  arrow  was  sent  from  the  green-frocked  archery  of  England. 
Onward  they  filed,  and  now  they  gained  the  banks,  when  from 
the  city  rose  a  pealing  shout — the  gates  were  thrown  open  on 
the  side  of  Beausse,  and  with  trumpet-note  and  battle-cry,  pen 
non,  and  plume,  and  lance,  the  garrison  dashed  out  in  a  bold 
sally,  charging,  for  the  first  time  in  many  months,  resolutely 
and  boldly  upon  the  breastworks  and  intrenchmerits  of  the 
islanders.  Then  were  heard  the  mingled  cries  of  France's 
and  England's  warfare  —  "  St.  George  !  St.  George  for  merry 


ANGLO-NORMAN    ARCHERY.  171 

England !" — "  France  !  France  !  Montjoye  !  St.  Denis  !"  The 
gallant  yeomanry  of  Lancashire  and  Yorkshire  advanced  slowly 
and  in  compact  array  —  they  halted.  Then,  as  the  charging 
chivalry  drew  near,  they  stepped  forward  a  single  pace  ;  they 
raised  their  six-foot  bows,  and,  without  a  shout  or  a  word 
spoken,  at  the  moving  of  their  marshal's  truncheon,  let  fly  a 
volley  of  cloth-yard  arrows,  shooting  so  wholly  and  together, 
that  no  atmosphere  was  ever  filled  more  closely  with  the  snow- 
flakes  of  December,  than  was  the  space  between  the  hostile 
forces  with  the  fatal  shafts  of  England.  No  species  of  missile 
has  ever  been  invented  half  so  deadly  as  was  the  Anglo-Nor 
man  archery.  The  musket  is  superior  in  certainty,  and,  above 
all,  in  the  comparatively  small  space  required  for  the  trans 
portation  of  its  ammunition,  but  no  volley  of  musket-shot  ever 
swept  the  ground,  piercing  through  triple  steel,  and  hurling 
horse  and  man  to  earth,  with  one  continual  and  incessant 
shower,  as  did  that  iron  storm.  A  few  —  a  few  only — of  the 
best  and  bravest  reached  the  lines,  protected  by  strong  barriers 
and  steel-shod  palisades  —  but  wo  to  the  yeoman  who  met 
those  desperate  few  !  No  offensive  armor  that  could  be  worn, 
by  the  heaviest  infantry,  much  less  the  light  hacquetons  and 
open  morions,  which,  with  a  buckler  of  a  hand's  breadth, 
formed  the  sole  protection  of  the  bow-men,  could  resist  the 
thundering  sweep  of  the  two-handed  swords,  which  rose  and 
fell  like  ponderous  engines  rather  than  mere  human  weapons, 
or  the  tremendous  thrust  of  the  level  lance  !  Boldly,  however, 
and  with  stubborn  hearts  did  they  make  good  the  fight  despite 
the  odds  —  hurling  their  iron  mallets  at  the  heads  of  their 
steel-clad  antagonists,  plunging  their  swords  into  the  crevices 
of  the  barbed  armor  which  covered  the  destriers,  and  here 
and  there  inflicting  ghastly  wounds  on  the  riders  themselves, 
through  plate  and  mail,  with  their  national  weapon,  the  brown- 
hill.  Anon  the  tramp  of  horses  and  the  clank  of  armor  an- 


172  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

nounced  the  British  chivalry,  as  wheeling  round  on  either 
flank  from  the  rear  of  the  archery,  their  plumes  streaming 
backward  in  the  current  of  air  created  by  the  violence  of  their 
own  motion,  and  their  lances  levelled  to  the  charge,  they 
swept  irresistibly  over  the  plain.  Had  they  thus  fallen  on 
the  rear  of  the  sallying  force,  already  galled  almost  beyond 
endurance  by  the  incessant  discharge  of  arrows  with  which 
they  had  been  plied,  not  a  man  of  all  that  gallant  company 
would  ever  have  returned  within  the  walls  of  Orleans.  But 
so  it  was  not  ordained  ;  with  the  steady  generalship  of  an  old 
experienced  leader,  the  maid  had  profited,  in  the  first  instance, 
by  the  superstitious  terror  of  the  English  outposts,  who  were 
half-defeated  by  their  consternation  before  a  blow  was  struck, 
and  then  by  the  diversion  caused  by  the  sally  of  the  besieged. 
Slowly  and  cautiously  she  had  marshalled  her  army  upon  the 
river  bank  —  had  embarked  strong  reinforcements  and  store  of 
provisions  in  the  galleys  on  the  broad  and  beautiful  river  — 
had  watched  their  progress  with  sail  and  oar,  until  they  had 
entered  the  water-gates,  and  until  the  joyous  acclamations  from 
within  announced  that  Orleans  was  indeed  relieved.  Then 
wheeling  her  columns  of  chivalry  into  long  lines,  she  advanced 
with  lance  in  rest,  at  a  smart  trot  in  beautifully  accurate  array, 
to  bring  off  the  party  which  had  so  seasonably  and  so  gallantly 
sallied  forth  in  her  behalf.  At  the  very  moment  when  the 
scanty  forces  of  France  were  hemmed  in,  as  it  seemed,  hope 
lessly  between  the  archery  and  the  men-at-arms'  of  England, 
so  promptly  had  she  timed,  and  so  skilfully  executed  her  man- 
O3uvre  —  at  the  very  point  of  time,  the  faint  shout  of  the  be 
sieged  was  answered  by  a  shrill  clear  voice  —  the  cry  of  the 
inspired  maid — "  God  aid  !  God  aid!  —  France!  France  and 
victory  !"  The  English  were  in  turn  outflanked  ;  and,  although 
Bedford  with  the  almost  instinctive  skill  that  can  only  be  ac 
quired  by  minds  naturally  martial,  and  by  those  only  after  long 


ORLEANS    RELIEVED.  173 

experience,  brought  off  his  chivalry  unhurt,  he  was  neverthe 
less  compelled  to  abandon  his  prey.  In  sullen  mood,  he  saw 
the  relieved  garrison  draw  off  their  shattered  companies  —  he 
saw  them  enter  the  fresh  files  of  the  maiden's  marshalled  host, 
and  pass  off  to  the  gates,  while  she,  unmoved  and  calm  amid 
the  shouting  and  the  din,  sat  bareheaded  beneath  her  mystic 
banner !  Not  a  bow  was  bent,  not  a  lance  levelled !  The 
very  banners  of  the  English  host,  the  lion  banners  that  for  ten 
long  years  had  never  been  displayed,  except  to  wave  o'er  con 
quered  fields  of  glory,  were  furled  around  their  staves  !  The 
spell  was  broken !  the  most  potent  spell  on  earth,  while  it  en 
dures,  the  confidence  in  their  own  valor — the  certainty  of 
victory  was  torn  from  those  bold  islanders  ;  nay,  more,  it  was 
already  transferred  to  their  despised  antagonists  :  for  there 
was  not  one  French  heart,  of  all  the  thousands  gathered  there, 
that  beat  not  high  with  self-congratulating  pride  and  valor,  as 
the  long  array  entered  the  gates  of  Orleans. 

"  Gentlemen,  and  knights  of  France  —  princes  and  paladins, 
and  thou,  sir  king,  have  I,  or  have  I  not  fulfilled  my  plighted 
word  ?  I  said  that  Orleans  should  be  saved,  and  IM  are  with 
in  her  walls !  Is  she  not  saved  already  ?"  Such  were  the 
words  of  Joan,  as  she  displayed  her  sacred  banner,  beside  the 
oriflamme  of  France,  high  on  the  outer  walls.  "  As  I  said 
then,  so  say  I  now ;  and,  as  I  say,  so  shall  it  be  for  ever ! 
The  Maid  of  Arc  shall  be  forgotten  in  the  Maid  of  Orleans ! 
It  is  so  even  now !  The  Maid  of  Orleans  shall  be  forgotten 
in  the  Maid  of  Rheims  !  So  shall  it  be  right  shortly  !  On ! 
on!  nobles  and  knights — behind  ye  is  defeat  and  death,  be 
fore  ye  is  a  bright  career  of  honor,  victory,  and  immortal 
fame  !  On  !  on !  for  I  have  said  that  France  shall  once  again 
be  free !" 


174        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE    TEMPTATION. 

Pucclle. — I  must  not  yield  to  any  rites  of  love, 
For  my  profession's  sacred  from  above; 
When  I  have  chased  all  thy  foes  from  hence, 
Then  will  I  think  upon  a  recompense. 

KIXG  HEXRY  VL 

IT  was  a  night  of  revelry  in  Orleans.  The  contrast  between 
the  wild  and  joyous  mirth  that  now  rang  through  every  court 
and  alley  of  the  Gothic  city,  and  the  dark  sullen  gloom,  which 
for  weeks  before  had  brooded  over  its  beleagured  walls  and  its 
well-nigh  famished  inmates,  was  as  perfect  as  it  was  delight 
ful.  In  place  of  the  bent  brow,  and  compressed  lips  of  men, 
nerving  themselves  to  bear  the  torments  of  that  most  fell  de 
stroyer,  gaunt  famine  —  in  place  of  the  pale  cheek,  dim  eye, 
and  slight,  attenuated  form  of  the  faint  mothers,  robbing  them 
selves  of  their  scant  sustenance,  to  minister  to  the  wants  of 
their  weak  and  wailing  little  ones  —  in  place  of  tears  and 
lamentations,  deep  groans,  and  deeper  curses  —  there  might 
now  be  seen  on  every  lip  a  smile  of  heartfelt  gratitude,  in 
every  eye  a  bright  expression,  on  every  cheek,  how  delicate 
and  thin  soever,  the  bright  flush  of  new-springing  hope  — 
there  might  now  be  heard  the  jocund  laugh,  the  loud  hurrah, 
the  pealing  cadence  of  minstrelsey  arid  song. 

On  that  night,  every  window  of  the  poorest  and  most  lowly 
habitations,  was  gleaming  with  lights  of  every  degree  of  bril 
liancy  and  price.  From  the  coarse  candle  of  unbleached  tal 
low,  or  the  lantern  of  oiled  paper,  to  the  gigantic  torch  of  vir 
gin  wax,  and  the  lamp  of  golden  network,  all  was  in  blaze  of 


A    NIGHT    OF    REVELRY.  175 

lustre  ;  banners  were  waving  from  the  casement,  or  Inmg  from 
lines  traversing  the  narrow  streets  —  flowers  were  strewed  on 
the  pavements — trumpets  were  sending  forth  their  wild  notes 
of  rejoicing,  far  into  the  surrounding  country,  announcing  to 
the  peasantry  for  miles  around,  that  Orleans  was  relieved,  and 
telling  to  the  warders  of  the  English  camp,  that  their  reign  of 
victory  was  at  an  end,  their  bows  broken,  and  their  lion  ham 
pered,  when  in  the  very  act  of  bounding  on  its  prostrate  vic 
tim. 

Wine  flowed  in  profusion — bread  was  distributed  to  all, 
with  no  stint,  save  that  of  appetite  —  muttons  and  beeves  were 
roasted  whole  in  every  court  and  square  —  and  wretches  who, 
perhaps,  had  been  deprived  of  wholesome  food,  nay,  of  a  suf 
ficiency  of  any  food,  for  weeks  and  months,  now  gorged  them 
selves  beside  the  blazing  bonfires,  till  wearied,  if  not  satiated 
with  the  feast,  they  sank  down  upon  the  rugged  pavement,  in 
the  deep  slumbers  of  insensibility. 

Nor  did  the  very  watchers,  as  it  would  seem,  upon  the  outer 
walls,  who  were  placed  there  to  guard  the  blessings  they  had 
won,  sit  on  their  airy  pinnacles  without  participating  in  the 
general  festivities.  Lights  might  be  seen  glancing  to  and  fro 
on  battlement  and  rampart,  and  here  and  there  behind  some 
sheltering  curtain,  or  in  the  angle  of  some  salient  bastion, 
might  be  caught  the  redder  glare  of  fires,  around  which  the 
heedless  guards  were  carousing  no  less  blithely  than  their 
comrades  in  the  streets  below.  It  required,  indeed,  all  the 
attention  of  the  provost  of  the  watch,  and  captains  of  the  guard, 
who,  through  the  livelong  night  might  be  distinguished  by  the 
clashing  of  their  armor,  and  by  the  exchange  of  watchwords, 
as  they  made  their  hourly  circuits  of  the  ramparts,  to  keep 
them  to  their  duty ;  nor  were  they  even  without  fears  that  the 
ever  alert  and  energetic  Bedford  might  profit  by  the  relaxation, 
or  to  speak  more  justly,  by  the  utter  absence  of  all  discipline, 


176        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

to  make  an  attack,  which  could  hardly  fail  of  success,  on  the 
city,  buried,  like  Troy  of  old,  in  sleep  and  wine. 

Blithe,  however,  as  was  the  merriment,  and  picturesque  as 
was  the  scene  without,  nothing  might  vie  with  the  pomp,  the 
revelry,  and  the  magnificence  that  were  crowded  into  the  wide 
halls  and  echoing  corridors  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  The  king 
and  all  his  chivalry  had  feasted,  in  celebration  of  this  their 
first  success,  with  the  burghers  and  echevins  of  Orleans,  and 
in  that  feast  had  been  concentrated  all  of  civic  luxury  —  all  of 
regal  magnificence.  But  the  feast  was  ended  —  of  the  pea 
cock  that  had  so  lately  graced  the  board  —  decked  with  his 
starry  train,  as  when  in  life  with  gilded  claws  and  coronetted 
head — nothing  was  left  save  a  despoiled  and  most  unseemly 
carcass !  —  boars'-heads  from  Montrichart,  heronshaws  and 
egrets  from  the  marshy  woodlands  of  Hainault,  had  shared  the 
same  reverse  of  fortunes,  and  having  a  short  hour  before,  min 
istered  to  the  goodly  appetites  of  lordly  knights  and  their 
queen-like  da?noiselles,  by  the  aid  of  steward  and  seneschal, 
were  now  rudely  torn  asunder  among  the  strife  and  rioting  of 
pages,  and  yet  meaner  varlets  ;  yet,  even  still,  there  was 
enough  in  the  canopied  dais  —  in  the  long  array  of  seats 
cushioned  with  rich  furs  and  velvet — in  the  display  of  mas 
sive  plate  —  ewers  and  flasks  of  gold,  enriched  with  marquetry 
and  chasings — bowls  rough  with  the  designs  of  the  earlier 
schools  of  Italian  art  —  mirrors  of  polished  steel,  wherein  the 
fabled  centaurs  might  have  viewed  the  gigantic  bulk  of  their 
double  frames  entire — torches  of  wax  flaring  and  streaming  in 
the  sockets  of  huge  golden  standishes  —  flowers  and  rushes 
strewed  on  the  marble  floor  —  which  had  sent  up  their  dewy 
perfumes,  mingling  with  the  savor  of  rich  meats,  and  with  the 
odorous  fragrance  of  the  wines,  already  celebrated,  of  Aix, 
of  Sillery,  and  of  Auxerre  —  now  trampled  into  an  unseemly 
mass  of  verdant  confusion  —  and,  above  all,  in  the  gay  attire 


THE    HOTEL    DE    VILLE.  177 

and  evident  rank  of  the  servitors,  who  yet  bustled  to  and  fro 
in  those  banquet-halls  deserted  —  to  mark  the  consequence  of 
the  guests,  who  had  thus  partaken  of  the  hospitality  of  the 
merchant-lords  of  Orleans. 

But  if  the  banquet-chamber  was  mute  and  voiceless,  not  so 
were  the  yet  loftier  halls,  which  stretched  their  long  lines  of 
illuminated  windows  from  end  to  end  of  that  huge  Gothic  build 
ing.  From  those  windows  pealed  the  rejoicing  music,  mingled 
with  the  light  merriment  of  girls,  and  the  hearty  merriment  of 
paladins  and  peers.  Nor  was  the  scene  within  less  brilliant, 
than  the  promise  given  by  the  sounds  which  issued  into  the 
bosom  of  the  night.  A  thousand  torches  were  gleaming  along 
the  walls,  doubled  and  trebled  by  the  reflectors  of  polished 
steel  or  silver,  that  were  arranged  behind  them — banners  of 
all  times  and  nations,  covered  the  vaulted  roof  with  a  bright 
canopy,  that  waved  and  rustled  in  every  breath  of  air — in  a 
high  gallery  were  seated  the  choicest  musicians  of  the  age, 
with  every  instrument  then  invented,  to  soothe  the  ear  or  glad 
den  the  heart  of  man,  by  their  mingled  harmonies.  Trumpet, 
arid  horn,  and  kettledrum,  and  cymbal,  sounded  in  wild,  yet 
beautiful  unison  with  the  softer  symphonies  of  harp  and  lute, 
and  the  melodious  warblings  of  the  birdlike  fife  ;  and  ever  and 
anon  the  richer  and  more  perfect  note,  of  that  most  exquisite 
of  vocal  instruments,  the  human  voice,  gushed  forth  in  choral 
strains,  now  unaccompanied  by  aught  of  string  or  wind,  now 
blended,  but  still  distinct,  in  the  deep  diapason  of  that  noble 
band.  But  who  shall  describe  the  crowd  that  swayed  to  and 
fro  over  the  tesselated  pavement  below,  in  obedience  to  the 
minstrelsey  and  music,  even  as  the  light  waves  of  a  summer 
sea  heave  at  the  bidding  of  the  light  air,  that  crisps,  but  may 
not  curl  or  whiten  their  sparkling  crests.  It  was  not  merely 
in  the  deep  splendor,  the  harmonious  coloring,  the  picturesque 
forms  of  the  antiquated  costume,  it  was  not  merely  in  the 

8* 


178        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

plumes  of  heron  or  ostrich  —  the  snowy  ermine,  the  three-piled 
mantles  of  Genoa  velvet — not  in  the  hose  of  sandal  twined 
with  threads  of  silver — not  in  the  buskins  of  satin,  or  the  spurs 
of  gold — not  in  the  bright  gems,  the  medals,  and  the  fanfaro- 
nas — not  in  the  robes  of  vair  and  caps  of  maintenance,  that 
graced  the  stately  warriors  of  the  court.  Nor  yet  was  it  in 
the  flowing  trains,  the  graceful  ruffs,  the  pearls  wreathed  in 
the  pleached  and  plaited  hair,  the  diamond  stomachers,  and 
chains  of  goldsmiths'  work — it  was  not  in  these,  that  centred 
the  attraction  of  the  glorious  concourse  —  though  with  these, 
not  the  costliest  pageantry  of  modern  times,  could  for  a  mo 
ment's  space  compare.  Nor  was  it  even  more  striking  than 
these — the  beauty,  the  mere  personal  beauty  of  the  wearers 
—  the  mingled  strength  and  grace  of  the  knights,  whose  places 
were  filled  no  less  decorously  in  the  bower  of  ladies,  than  in  the 
strife  of  men  —  the  sylph-like  forms,  the  wavy  and  voluptuous 
motions,  the  eyes  brilliant  or  laughing,  tender  or  agacante,  of 
those  highborn  damoiselles.  No,  it  was  not  in  any,  nor  in  all 
of  these.  But  in  the  aristocratic  bearing,  the  high,  full-blooded 
look,  that  might  be  traced  in  the  features  and  the  forms,  alike 
of  either  sex ;  the  small  and  well-set  heads  ;  the  tall  and 
slight,  though  exquisitely  rounded  limbs  ;  the  delicate  hands 
— practised,  however,  they  might  be,  in  wielding  the  huge 
espaldron,  or  yet  more  weighty  battle-axe  ;  the  blue  veins  ris 
ing  in  bold  and  pencilled  relief,  from  brow  and  neck  ;  the  ex 
panded  nostrils  ;  and,  above  all,  the  perfect  grace  of  every 
movement,  whether  in  voluptuous  repose,  or  in  the  mazes  of 
the  wheeling  dance.  It  was  in  these  rare  attribu'tes,  that  con 
sisted  the  real  splendor  of  that  assemblage  —  it  was  by  these  — 
the  distinctive  marks  of  Norman  blood  —  that  the  most  casual 
observer  might  have  styled  each  individual  there,  even  at  a 
moment's  notice,  as  the  descendant  of  some  immemorial  line. 
All  the  magnificence  might  have  been  lavished  upon  a  troop 


THE    ARISTOCRATIC    BEAUTIES    OF    ORLEANS.  179 

of  mendicants — but  lavished  to  no  purpose.  No  art,  no  splen 
dor,  no  disguise,  could  have  metamorphosed  those  into  the 
most  transitory  likeness  to  nobility — more  than  the  mean 
weeds  and  tattered  garments  could  have  banished  from  these, 
their  inborn  air  of  aristocracy. 

Hundreds  there  were  of  the  most  brave,  of  the  most  beauti 
ful —  Agnes  de  Sorel,  the  acknowledged  mistress  of  the  king, 
with  her  broad  laughing  eyes  of  blue,  and  her  profusion  of 
sunny  ringlets  shadowing  a  neck  of  alabaster.  Isabel  de  Cas- 
telnau,  her  noble  form  and  majestic  expression  of  features, 
well-suited  to  the  antique  head-dress,  and  the  purple  robe, 
with  a  delicate  merlin,  perched  unhooded  on  her  wrist,  gazing 
with  his  wild,  bright  eyes  into  the  equally  brilliant  mirrors  of 
his  lady's  soul,  without  manifesting  the  slightest  wish  to  flut 
ter,  or  to  fly.  Helene  de  Marigny,  with  her  slender,  girl-like 
proportions,  and  that  air  of  timid  bashfulness,  that  so  belied 
her  character  ;  Helene  de  Marigny,  who,  in  her  brother's  ab 
sence,  roused  at  the  dead  of  night  by  the  clash  of  armor  and 
the  trumpet-note,  had  seen  the  English  foemen  scaling  the 
windows  of  her  virgin-bower ;  had  seen,  and  with  no  woman- 
terror,  grasped  to  the  mortal  sword,  and  wielded  it  triumphant 
ly,  till  succor 'completed  that  defence,  which  she  —  a  fairy- 
looking  maid  of  seventeen — had  protracted  so  manfully  and 
well.  Diane  de  Bourcicaut,  sister  to  the  bravest  and  the  best 
of  Charles's  young  warriors.  Louise  de  Querouaille,  fairer 
and  far  more  chaste  than  her  more  famous  namesake  of  after- 
ages —  and  last,  not  least,  Mademoiselle,  the  lovely  sister  of 
the  king.  All  these  were  there,  and  others,  unnumbered  and 
beautiful  as  the  stars  in  a  summer  heaven,  toying,  in  mere  dal 
liance,  or  yielding,  perchance,  to  deeper  and  more  real  feelings, 
as  they  moved  in  the  giddy  dance,  or  reclined  on  the  canopied 
settees  beside  those  gallant  lovers,  who  might  to-morrow  lie, 
all  maimed  and  bleeding,  on  the  red  battle-field.  But  among 


180  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

all  these,  the  flower  of  France's  female  aristocracy  —  among 
all  these,  there  was  one  pre-eminent  —  pre-eminent  not  only 
in  her  actual  beauty,  but  in  that  woman  grace,  that  free,  yet 
gentle  demeanor,  that  airiness  of  motion,  and  exquisite  propri 
ety  of  manner,  which  are  so  essentially  the  offspring  of  noble 
birth,  and  of  unconscious  practice,  if  not  of  conventual  rules. 
That  one  —  the  fairest  and  the  noblest —  insomuch  as  the  eye 
might  judge  by  any  outward  token  —  that  one,  was  the  peasant- 
maiden  !  Admired  almost  to  adoration  by  the  chivalrous  spirits 
of  the  day,  and  tested  with  the  severest  and  most  bitter  criti 
cism  of  those  of  her  lovely  rivals,  who  had  seen,  in  too  many 
instances,  the  knights  who  had  been  sworn  their  servants, 
desert  from  their  allegiance,  humbly  and  hopelessly  to  throw 
their  services,  their  homage,  and  their  love,  at  the  feet  of  the 
inspired  shepherdess.  All  this  had  she  gone  through,  tri 
umphantly  ;  in  the  ordeal  of  the  banquet  and  the  ball,  she 
had  proved  her  noble  qualities,  no  less  completely  than  amid 
the  din  of  battle.  The  test  of  private  and  familiar  intercourse 
she  had  endured  and  conquered  —  the  test  of  that  society 
wherein  enthusiasm  is  ridiculous,  and  nothing  is  deemed  be 
coming  of  a  lady,  save  the  conventional  bearing  of  the  circle, 
whether  it  be  of  hoyden  mirth,  or  of  the  habitual  pose,  conceal 
ing  the  deepest  feelings,  and  perchance,  the  wildest  profligacy, 
beneath  the  semblance  of  unmoved  composure,  and  self-re 
straint. 

At  the  banquet,  she  had  feasted  beneath  the  canopy  of  state, 
at  the  right  of  the  victorious  monarch — through  her  means 
victorious  —  she  had  been  served,  on  the  knee,  by  knights  and 
nobles  —  she  had  sipped  from  jewelled  goblets  the  richest  vin 
tages  of  France  —  she  had  seen  and  heard  a  thousand  things, 
which  must  have  been  equally  new  and  wondrous  to  the  vil 
lage-girl  of  Domremy ;  and  this,  too,  with  the  consciousness 
that  hundreds  of  bright  female  eyes  were  reading  her  every 


PREPARATIONS    FOR    THE    DANCE.  181 

'     * 

look,  with  envious  eagerness,  to  see  some  breach  of  etiquette, 
some  symptom  of  embarrassment,  some  gaucherie,  which — 
however  pardonable  in  itself,  and  however  naturally  to  be  ex 
pected  in  her,  who  had  heretofore  scarce  heard  of,  much  less 
mingled  on  the  footing  of  equality,  with  princesses  and  kings 

—  might  at  least  have  justified  them  in  pronouncing  her  a 
creature  beneath  the  notice,  much  more  the  devotion  of  the  free 
and  noble.     All  this  had  she  done,  yet  by  no  sign,  no  motion 
however  trivial,  no  expression  of  eye  or  feature,  had  she  be 
trayed  the  slightest  confusion,  the  least  consciousness  of  being 
otherwise  waited  on,  or  differently  respected,  than  from  her 
earliest  childhood. 

The  feast  was  ended,  and,  each  lady  leaning  on  the  shoulder 
of  her  chevalier,  the  gay  assembly  filed,  to  the  chiming  melody 
of  instruments,  through  the  long  corridors  to  the  halls  already 
cleared  for  the  high  dance,  and  as  they  passed  along,  it  was 
the  arm  of  Charles  that  led  —  in  preference  to  wife  or  maiden 
of  ancestral  dignity  —  the  Maid  of  Arc. 

Mantles  and  plumed-hats  and  jewelled  estocs  were  thrown 
by,  spurs  were  drawn  from  satin  buskins,  trains  were  looped 
up,  or  quite  removed  by  page  and  servitor — the  halls  were 
cleared — the  minstrels  breathed  into  their  instruments  the 
fullest  soul  of  their  vocation.  Wherefore  that  pause  —  it  was 
the  king's  to  lead  the  festive  measure — the  king's,  who  was 
even  now  engrossed  to  utter  inconsciousness  of  all  that  was 
around  him,  by  the  strange  beauty,  the  rich  enthusiasm,  and 
above  all,  the  naive  and  natural  simplicity  of  his  companion. 

"  Pray  God,  that  she  may  dance,"  whispered  Diane  the 
Bourcicaut,  to  the  fair  Agnes  ;  "  pray  God  that  she  may  dance 

—  none  of  your  canaille  may  attempt  the  pavon  and  fail  to  be 
ridiculous.     Is  it  not  so,  my  Agnes  ?" 

With  a  faint  smile  she  who  was  addressed  looked  up,  but  it 
was  beyond  the  powers  of  a  spirit,  highly  strung  and  noble  — 


182  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

even  as  was  hers — to  reply  in  the  tones  of  polished  raillery, 
or  to  affect  the  air  of  unconcern,  that  would  have  best  befitted 
the  occasion.  She  turned  her  beautiful  blue  eyes  toward  her 
faithless  lover,  and  though  she  spoke  not  to  complain,  or  even 
to  regret,  a  large  tear  hung  for  a  moment  on  the  long  dark 
lashes,  and  slid  slowly  down  that  cheek,  that  lately  might  have 
vied  with  all  that  is  most  sweet  and  warm  in  the  created  uni 
verse,  now  cold  and  colorless  as  the  sepulchral  marble.  Hers 
was  not  a  heart  to  wish  for  the  failure  of  a  rival  in  aught  trivi 
al,  or  of  mere  court-fashion.  "  No,  no  !"  she  murmured  to  her 
self,  almost  unconsciously.  "  If  in  all  else  she  be  superior  to 
poor  Agnes  —  superior  even  to  the  winning  from  her  of  that 
false  heart  she  deemed  assuredly  her  own,  then  may  she  con 
quer  in  all  else  —  and  oh,  may  HE  be  happy !" 

None  heard  the  words  —none  heeded,  or  perchance  under 
stood  the  sorrows  of  the  heart-wronged  maiden  ;  but  neither 
were  the  light  wishes  expressed  by  Diane,  nor  the  similar 
hopes  indulged  if  unexpressed  by  many  a  jealous  fair  one,  to 
be  gratified.  The  maiden  was  too  high-minded  for  so  frivolous 
a  practice  as  the  soulless  dance,  or,  perchance,  too  circumspect 
to  attempt  aught  wherein  she  was  so  like  to  fail.  It  was  in 
vain  that  the  king,  the  young  and  glorious  monarch,  pleaded 
with  an  enthusiastic  ardor,  somewhat  disproportioned  to  the 
magnitude  of  the  boon,  for  her  fair  hand,  if  it  were  but  for  a 
single  revel.  The  maiden  was  inflexible,  yet  Charles  departed 
not  from  her  elbow.  The  music  sounded  clearly  and  high, 
driving  the  blood  in  faster  and  more  tumultuous  currents 
through  many  a  bounding  form  —  the  dance  went  on — couple 
after  couple  glancing  or  gliding,  part  in  slow  voluptuous  move 
ments,  part  in  the  giddy  whirl  of  the  swift  maze.  A  few  short 
moments  passed,  and  the  maiden  and  the  monarch  were  alike 
forgotten. 

On  a  solitary  couch,  deep  set  in  the  embrazure  of  a  huge 


A    ROYAL    TEMPTER.  183 

oriel  window  that  overlooked  the  ramparts  though  at  a  long 
distance,  the  maiden  was  reclining.  Her  head  and  exquisite 
ly-moulded  bust  supported  on  a  pile  of  damask  cushions,  and 
the  symmetrical  lines  of  her  person  and  her  limbs  scarcely- 
perceptible  by  the  wavy  motions  of  her  velvet  robe  ;  but  her 
countenance  was  buried  in  her  hand,  and  the  beautiful  bust 
was  throbbing,  and  panting,  as  though  it  were  about  to  burst 
with  the  fierceness  of  its  own  emotions.  With  an  insidious 
whisper,  a  flushed  cheek,  and  a  quickened  pulse,  Charles 
knelt  beside  her.  One  of  her  fairy  hands  he  had  mastered, 
spite  of  some  feminine  resistance,  and  held  it  to  his  bosom  — 
his  words  were  inaudible,  but  the  purport  might  be  easily  con 
jectured,  from  the  effect  they  produced  on  her  who  listened  in 
such  manifest  abandonment  of  feeling. 

She  raised  her  speaking  features  —  there  was  a  softness,  an 
expression  of  deep  feeling,  almost  of  yielding  in  her  eye,  but 
the  firmness  of  the  chiseled  mouth  denied  the  weakness. 

"  Oh,  sire,"  she  said,  in  notes  of  the  most  harmonious  soft 
ness,  in  which  there  might  be  traced  a  shadow  of  reproach  — 
"  Oh,  sire,  and  is  it  thus  you  would  reward  your  savior  ?  I  am 
a  woman  —  a  frail  woman  —  though  for  a  special  end,  and  by 
a  mighty  God  inspired — but  save  my  own  weak  judgment,  my 
own  erring  —  yet  thanks  be  to  the  Eternal  —  not,  oh,  not 
abandoned  impulses,  I  have  no  inspiration  to  guide  me  in  the 
narrow  path  of  duty.  And  is  it  generous,  or  great,  or  kingly  ? 
is  it  worthy  the  last  heir  of  a  long  line  of  mighty  ones,  to  pit 
his  strength  against  a  woman's  weakness? — his  eloquence, 
fervid  and  impassioned  as  it  is,  against  her  fond  credulity?  — 
his  rank  and  beauty  against  the  ignorance,  the  admiring  igno 
rance  of  her  peasant-heart.  For  thee  I  have  left  home,  and 
friends,  and  country — for  to  me  my  native  valley  was  my 
country — for  thee  I  have  violated  the  strict  laws  of  woman 
hood,  incurring  the  reproach  of  over-boldness  and  unmaidenly 


184        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

demeanor  in  donning  male  attire  and  backing  the  fierce  war- 
horse.  All  this  have  I  done  for  thee ;  oh,  strive  not,  thou,  to 
rob  me  of  my  sole  remaining  heritage,  my  maiden  virtue  — 
my  unblemished  honor  !" 

"  Oil,  say  not  so  !  most  beautiful  and  sweetest,"  returned  the 
king ;  "  knowest  thou  not  that  kings  Who  may  not  wive  them, 
save  for  policy,  may  give  their  fondest  love,  may  give  their 
hand  and  homage  par  amours,  and  do  naught  of  dishonor  to  the 
proudest." 

"  Nay !  then,"  she  cried,  springing  to  her  feet,  with  the  air 
of  some  young  Pythoness  full  of  the  oracular  presence  — 
"Nay,  then,  I  will  be  heard — selfish  and  base!  —  ay,  base 
and  selfish  art  thou!  Dost  think  that  I,  I,  the  inspired  of 
Heaven,  could  bend  to  infamy?  Dost  dare  to  think  that  I,  if 
I  could  love  a  thing  so  exquisitely  false  as  thou  art,  that  I 
would  not  tear  out  the  guilty  passion  from  my  heart,  though  it 
should  rend  the  heart-strings  ?  But  so  it  is  not — so  shall  it 
never  be  !  In  that  lone  valley  I  deserted  one,  who  would  have 
died  for  me  —  ay,  died!  not  in  your  poor  court-phrase,  not  to 
dishonor,  not  to  damn  with  the  blight  of  his  own  infamy  the 
creature  he  pretended  to  adore !  but.  to  have  called  me  his,  his 
in  the  face  of  Heaven.  Him  did  I  leave,  not  that  I  felt  not  the 
blow  which  severed  us  —  not  that  I  was  senseless  to  his  hon 
est  love — not  that  I  was  ingrate  or  cold  ;  but  that  I  had  a  duty, 
a  duty  paramount,  summoning  me,  trumpet-tongued,  to  rescue 
thee  /  —  thou  who  wouldstnow  destroy  me,  and  for  ever  !  Now, 
know  me  !  Know  me,  and  tremble  !  First  know,  that  not  for 
ten — for  ten — not  for  ten  thousand  crowned  THINGS  like  thee, 
would  Joan  of  Orleans  barter  the  true  peasant-love  of  that  for 
saken  one !  Know  further,  that  even  now  while  thou  art  stri 
ving  to  dishonor  thy  defender  —  even  now  the  English  Lion  is 
ramping  at  your  gates  —  even  now  fierce  Bedford  is  beneath 
your  ramparts.  Pray  to  your  God,  if  you  believe  in  his  exist- 


ORLEANS  AGAIN  PRESERVED.  185 

ence — pray  to  your  God  that  he  give  you  not  up  for  ever,  to 
your  own  most  guilty  wishes  —  give  not  your  country  up  to  the 
unrelenting  islander !" 

As  she  spoke,  the  long,  shrill  blast  of  a  trumpet  swept  wail- 
ingly  over  the  festive  city,  and  a  remote  din  of  arms  succeeded 
it,  with  the  mingled  cries  of  France's  and  of  England's  war 
fare.  In  mute  astonishment  Charles  gazed  to  the  distant  ram 
parts,  on  which  a  deadly  strife  was  even  then  in  progress, 
while  the  bright  banners  and  glancing  casques  of  the  besieger 
flashed  to  the  moonbeams  in  still  increasing  numbers,  as  ladder 
after  ladder  sent  up  its  load  to  overpower  the  slumbering  war 
dens,  and  win  the  city  thus  relieved  in  vain.  Thence,  slowly 
and  with  a  faltering  mien,  he  turned  to  the  dilating  form  and 
speaking  eye  -of  the  prophetic  maid — he  clasped  his  hands, 
overpowered  with  superstitious  awe  — 

"  Save  me,"  he  cried,  "  thou  holy  one  ;  oh,  save  my  country  !" 

"  Swear,  then,"  she  answered  ;  "  swear,  then,  by  the  Eter 
nal  Lord  who  sent  me  to  thy  succor ;  swear  that  never  again 
thou  wilt  form  in  thy  heart  of  hearts  the  base  and  blackening 
thought  thou  didst  express  but  now!  —  Swear  this  and  I  will 
save  thee  !" 

"  I  swear — I  swear  by  the" — 

"  St.  Denis,  ho  !"  cried  Joan,  in  notes  that  pierced  the  ears 
of  the  revellers  like  a  naked  sword  — "  Montjoye  !  St.  Denis  ! 
—  and  to  arms!  —  The  English  ho!  the  English!  Joan! 
Joan  for  France,  and  vengeance  !" 

The  well-known  warcry  was  repeated  from  a  hundred  lips. 
The  maiden  snatched  the  banner,  and  the  brand — helmless 
and  in  her  woman  robes  she  rushed  into  the  conflict,  followed 
by  thousands  in  their  festive  garb,  with  torch,  and  spear,  and 
banner!  Short  was  the  strife,  and  desperate.  Bedford  had 
hoped  to  win  a  sleeping  woman  —  he  found  a  waking  lion. 
After  a  furious,  but  a  hopeless  encounter,  he  drew  off  his 
foiled  and  thwarted  bands,  and  Orleans  was  again  preserved ! 


186        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE    VICTORY. 

Talbot. — Hark,  countrymen!  either  renew  the  fight, 
Or  tear  the  lions  out  of  England's  coat; 
Renounce  your  soil,  give  sheep  in  lion's  stead: 
Sheep  run  not  half  so  timorous  from  the  wolf, 
Or  horse  or  oxen  from  the  leopard, 
As  you  fly  from  your  oft-subdued  slaves. 

KING  HENRY  VI. 

A  WEEK  had  passed  since  the  relief  of  Orleans  ;  —  a  week 
of  stern  repose,  of  inaction,  that  was  but  preparatory  to  most 
fierce  activity.  A  week,  like  the  brief,  breathless  pause  be 
tween  the  mustering  of  the  storm-cloud  and  the  first  crash  of 
Heaven's  artillery.  Within  the  walls  of  the  relieved  city  — 
unexpectedly  relieved  from  a  state  of  the  most  abject  despair 
— the  aspect  of  affairs  widely  changed !  Instead  of  the  pale 
cheek,  the  whispered  doubt  or  open  lamentation,  the  cringing 
step,  and  the  frame  already  bowed  to  the  earth  with  apprehen 
sion,  might  be  seen  the  bold  and  fiery  glance,  the  manly  front 
of  confidence  restored,  the  firm  and  martial  stride  !  Without 
— there  was  a  change,  if  possible,  more  clearly  visible  ;  a 
change  from  earth-defying  valor  to  superstitious  dread,  and 
coward  indecision.  It  was  in  vain  that  Bedford,  Salisbury, 
and  Talbot,  those  thunderbolts  of  war,  in  war's  most  stirring 
days,  did  all  that  men  could  do,  to  dispel  the  craven  fear,  to 
relume  the  drooping  valor  of  the  self-same  soldiery,  before  a 
score  of  whom,  a  short  week  past,  hundreds  of  steel-clad 
Frenchmen  would  have  fled,  without  one  good  blow  stricken, 
or  one  charger  spurred  to  meet  the  onset.  Nay,  more  than 


THE    ENGLISH    AGAIN    REPULSED.  187 

all,  it  was  in  vain  that  one  transient  gleam  of  fortune  smiled 
on  their  arms,  that  one  hour  of  victory  chequered  the  now 
wonted  tale  of  their  disasters.  That  very  smile  of  fortune, 
that  very  glimpse  of  victory  went  farther  to  confirm  the  gloomy 
doubts  which  were  rising  up  on  every  side  to  mask  the  sun 
set  of  their  declining  hopes,  than  the  relief  of  Orleans  had 
already  gone,  or  than  would  ten  fair  defeats  with  marshalled 
front  and  fruitless  fighting.  They  had  repelled,  and  it  was 
true — nobly  repelled,  and  with  decisive  energy,  a  fierce  attack 
upon  one  of  the  bastions,  erected  by  the  far-sighted  regent  to 
protect  the  lines  of  his  blockade  ;  —  they  had  driven  the  hot 
headed  lords  of  France  before  them,  as  had  been  their  wont  in 
days  of  old — had  chased  them  to  the  very  sally-ports,  from 
which  they  had  so  lately  issued,  "  defying  earth  and  confident 
of  Heaven"  —  Nay,  so  complete  had  been  their  success,  that 
for  a  moment  they  believed  the  city  theirs  —  but  the  MAIDEN 
was  not  there  !  Her  sacred  banner  fluttered  not  in  the  retreat 
— nor  had  her  battle-cry,  "  God  aid — God  aid,  for  France  and 
vengeance  !" — been  heard  in  the  advance  !  But  as  they 
reached  the  city-gates,  pursuers  and  pursued,  in  wild  con 
fusion,  like  the  clear  tones  of  a  trumpet,  they  pealed  upon  the 
air — reanimating  the  faint  hearts  and  failing  hands  of  France's 
routed  sons,  and  striking  with  the  cold  chill  of  dismay  to  the 
hearts  of  England's  bravest — the  well-remembered  cadences 
of  her  war-shout !  Springing  from  the  couch  to  which  she 
had  retired  during  the  heat  and  weariness  of  noon,  she  had 
buckled  on  her  armor,  vaulted  on  her  charger,  and,  with  a 
dozen  knights  and  squires  chance  collected  for  the  rescue,  had 
galloped  forth,  in  time  to  save  the  rash  assailants  from  the  fate 
which  their  temerity  had  well  deserved,  and  once  again  to 
drive  the  English  lion  from  before  the  walls  of  Orleans  ! 

It  was  then  evident — undoubted  as  the  sun  at  his  meridian 
—  that  against  the  maiden's  banner  there  could  be  no  victory; 


188  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

remove  that  magic  obstacle,  and  with  its  wonted  brightness 
blazed  forth  the  British  valor  ;  uplift  it,  and'  the  hearts  were 
shaken,  the  arms  paralyzed,  the  confidence  abolished,  which, 
more  than  either  heart  or  hand,  had  well-nigh  justified  the  title 
of  the  English  monarchs  to  the  subjugated  crown  of  France. 
Still  was  there  naught  of  craven  shrinking  from  the  contest, 
no  thought  of  flight,  or  even  of  abandoning  their  conquests. 
No  !  not  in  the  meanest  sutler  of  the  camp !  That  stubborn 
hardihood,  that  dogged  insensibility  to  defeat,  that  passive  en 
durance  of  extremities  after  hope  itself  is  dead,  which  has 
ever  been  the  characteristic  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  from  the 
fated  day  of  Hastings  to  red  Waterloo,  was  there  displayed  in 
all  its  vigor.  The  privates,  whether  men-at-arms  or  archery, 
held  to  their  posts  in  cool  defiance,  and  mustered  around  their 
banners,  if  not  with  their  accustomed  alacrity,  at  least  with 
readiness  and  prompt  submission !  Nor  would  one  of  the 
sturdy  knaves  have  shrunk  from  or  shunned  the  contest,  with 
the  best  paladin  in  the  court  of  Charles  —  but  striving  to  out- 
rance  against  the  banner,  in  the  teeth  of  which  he  deemed  his 
valor  fruitless,  and  victory  impossible,  he  would  have  fallen 
unyielding,  with  his  wounds  in  front,  and  his  heart  undis 
mayed  ! 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  in  either  host,  when  a  general 
assault  of  the  English  lines,  at  every  accessible  point,  was  re 
solved  on  by  the  maiden  and  her  council.  The  day  was  fixed 
for  the  attack,  at  nearly  a  week's  distance,  nor  was  aught  of 
concealment  or  surprise  so  much  as  meditated  !  On  the  con 
trary,  defiances  were  interchanged  between  the  leaders  of  the 
hostile  armies,  and  more  cartels  than  one  were  given  and  ac 
cepted  for  mortal  combat,  at  the  head  of  their  several  divisions, 
and  at  places  clearly  specified !  The  very  sentinels  at  the 
extreme  outposts,  between  whom  but  a  few  yards  of  unob 
structed  turf,  or  perhaps  some  puny  brooklet,  intervened, 


MASS  BEFORE  BATTLE.  189 

exulted  in  the  prospect  of  a  meeting  under  shield,  face  to 
face ! 

The  expected  morning  had  at  length  arrived,  but  the  sun 
rose  not  in  his  accustomed  brightness — the  sky  was  black  and 
overcast,  a  dense  mist  rose,  like  a  body  of  packed  smoke,  from 
the  low-lands,  above  which  the  occasional  elevations  of  the 
country,  crowned  with  the  castellated  dwellings  of  the  nobility, 
or  with  the  Gothic  steeple  of  some  village-church,  loomed  like 
distant  islands,  while  it  would  have  required  no  wild  stretch 
of  fancy  to  discover  in  the  bastions  of  the  invaders,  decked 
with  their  broad  banners  and  their  woods  of  lances,  a  resem 
blance  to  a  fleet  becalmed,  or  idly  waiting  a  renewal  of  the 
breeze. 

The  hour  was  yet  early,  when  mass  was  finished  in  the  high 
cathedral ;  the  sacred  host  had  been  displayed  to  the  reveren 
tial  soldiers,  as  they  filed  onward,  troop  after  troop,  bending 
their  mail-clad  knees,  and  veiling  their  victorious  standards,  as 
they  passed  the  ministering  priest,  and  received  his  patriotic 
benediction,  accompanied  by  showers  of  holy  water,  and  fol 
lowed  by  the  pealing  anthems  of  a  full  and  noble  choir. 
Meekly  and  humbly  had  they  knelt  before  the  shrine  —  the 
young  monarch  and  his  lovely  champion  !  —  All  armed,  save 
that  their  casques  were  held  without  by  page  and  squire,  had 
they  partaken  of  the  eucharist ;  draining,  with  lips  that  soon 
should  shout  the  unrelenting  war-cry,  or  perchance  quiver  in 
the  pangs  of  violent  and  sudden  dissolution,  the  typical  blood 
of  the  Redeemer ;  and  receiving,  with  the  hands  that  soon 
must  reek  with  human  gore  and  wield  the  mortal  weapon,  the 
consecrated  pledge  of  their  salvation. 

The  rites  had  been  concluded,  the  army  was  already  mar 
shalled  on  the  plain  under  the  guidance  of  its  subalterns!  — 
and  now,  with  their  attendants  —  banner-men  and  esquires  of 
the  body  on  gallant  steeds — varlets  and  couteliers  on  foot, 


190  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

but  trained  to  run  beside  the  charger  of  the  lord  with  their 
huge  knives,  misnamed  of  mercy,  and  heavy  pole-axes — the 
leaders  galloped  from  the  rear  to  their  respective  stations. 

Slowly  the  mist  had  been  dispersing  beneath  the  influence 
of  the  sun,  and  of  a  light  air  from  the  eastward,  which  seemed 
to  increase  with  the  increasing  redness  of  the  east,  although 
the  vapors  still  clung  heavily  to  the  level  plain.  The  mon 
arch  and  the  maiden  had  reached  the  centre  of  their  lines  — 
Alen9on's  banner  might  be  seen  on  the  extreme  right,  though 
its  quartered  bearings  were  invisible  from  the  distance  and  the 
darkness ;  Vendome  and  Bourcicaut  had  announced  their 
presence  on  the  left  by  bugle-note  and  banner-cry ;  but  it  was 
around  the  person  of  the  king,  and  of  his  bright  associate  in 
arms,  that  were  mustered  the  pride  and  flower  of  France's 
chivalry !  Gancourt,  and  La  Fayette,  Graville,  Xaintrailles, 
De  La  Hire,  and  the  dark  Dunois,  each  with  his  chosen  band 
of  lances,  each  with  his  bannerol  displayed,  a  knight  of  high 
renown,  were  gathered  there,  amidst  a  sea  of  waving  plumes 
and  sparkling  armor. 

"The  time  hath  come,  my  liege,"  cried  Joan  —  "the  time 
hath  come,  when  you  shall  see  your  foernen  scattered  before 
your  lances  like  chaff  before  the  wind  of  Heaven !  And  lo  ! 
a  signal  shall  be  given  even  now,  and  in  that  signal  shalt  thou 
conquer !  When  the  first  blast  of  our  trumpets  shall  be  heard 
abroad  —  when  the  first  roar  of  our  ordnance  shall  awake  the 
slumbering  echoes,  then  shall  this  cloudy  tabernacle  be  rent 
in  twain.  Then  shall  the  bright  day-star  shine  down  in  un 
obstructed  glory,  to  witness,  and  to  aid  our  daring!  —  To  your 
posts,  nobles  and  knights,  to  your  posts  !  —  and,  when  the  sig 
nal  shall  be  given  from  on  high,  let  each  one  couch  his  spear, 
and  spur  his  steed,  Fof  France  —  for  France  and  glory !" 

"  Away,  Xaintrailles,  away  to  these  knave  cannoneers,  and 
let  them  lay  their  ordnance  fairly,  and  load  it  heavily !"  cried 


THE    PROPHETIC    SIGNAL.  191 

Duriois  ;  "  and,  when  they  hear  a  royal  trumpet,  let  them 
shoot  on  while  fire  and  linstock  hold  !" 

The  clash  of  hoofs  was  heard,  and  ere  a  moment  elapsed  the 
youthful  warrior  arid  train  were  lost  in  the  near  mist-wreaths. 

There  was  a  pause  of  deep,  deep  silence  !  Joan  sat  upon 
her  motionless  and  well-trained  charger,  gazing  aloft,  and  to 
ward  the  east,  with  a  calm,  searching  eye  ;  not  the  wild  glance 
of  doubt  or  anxiety,  but  the  steady  gaze  of  confident  and  con 
scious  faith,  awaiting  the  confirmation  of  its  promise.  With 
the  speed  of  light  had  the  prophecy  been  rumored  through  the 
host,  and  —  though  every  vizor  was  lowered,  every  buckler 
braced,  and  every  lance  lowered  in  preparation  for  the  instant 
charge — though  the  advance  of  the  enemy  might  be  already 
noted,  in  the  heavy  tramp  of  the  approaching  squadrons,  and  in 
the  occasional  clang  of  armor  —  still  every  eye  was  directed 
heavenward,  in  keen  anxiety  for  the  proof  of  the  prophet-maid 
en's  inspiration. 

Was  it  indeed  inspiration  —  was  it  the  divine  gift  of  foresight 
bestowed,  on  one  most  ignorant  of  the  world's  wisdom,  for  high 
and  holy  purposes  ?  Or  was  it  that  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  atmospheric  phenomena,  so  often  possessed  by  those  whose 
duty  it  is  to  tend  their  flocks  on  the  upland  pasture  or  in  the 
mountain-valley,  operating  now  on  her  enthusiastic  and  zealous 
temperament,  that  caused  the  peasant-maiden  to  predict  occur 
rences,  which  were  in  truth  about  to  be  fulfilled ;  thus  deceiv 
ing  alike  herself  and  those  who  followed  her  ? 

The  sounds  of  the  approaching  foemen  rose  clearly  and 
more  clearly  on  the  ear ;  the  very  words  of  the  leaders  might 
be  heard  in  the  deep  hush  of  expectation,  and  now,  through 
the  intervening  mist,  might  be  seen,  dimly  and  ghost-like,  the 
long  array  of  the  invaders.  The  maiden  cast  a  quick  glance 
to  the  king,  and,  catching  his  assent  from  the  motion  of  his 
closed  helmet,  flung  her  hand  aloft  — 


192  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

"  Now  trumpets  !"  she  cried — "  sound !  sound  for  France  ! 
Montjoye'!  St.  Denis  !" 

A  single  clear  bla.st  arose,  blown  from  the  silver-trumpet  of 
a  pursuivant  who  stood  beside  her  stirrup  —  shrilly  was  it  pro 
tracted,  without  nourish  or  variation,  till  caught  up,  and  re 
peated  from  a  thousand  brazen  instruments.  While  their 
screaming  cadences  were  yet  deafening  every  ear,  and  thril 
ling  every  heart,  a  sharp  crash,  a  deep,  hoarse  roar,  burst  forth 
on  the  extensive  right.  Crash  after  crash,  roar  after  roar,  the 
stunning  voice  of  the  newly-invented  ordnance  rolled  along  the 
front.  For  a  moment's  space  the  darkness  was  increased — 
the  smoke  from  the  artillery  rolled  thickly  back  upon  the  lines 
—  there  was  a  stir  in  the  atmosphere,  a  quick,  shivering  mo 
tion —  a  cold  breath  —  the  banners  fluttered  wildly,  the  feathers 
tossed,  and  fell  again,  and  then  streamed  out  at  length,  and  all 
in  one  direction.  A  fresh  breeze  swept  down  from  the  east 
ward,  and,  like  a  huge  curtain  raised  by  unseen  machinery,  the 
whole  volume  of  mingled  smoke  and  mist  surged  upward,  was 
swept  violently  away,  and,  in  less  time  than  the  narration  oc 
cupies,  was  curling  in  scattered  vapors  over  the  far  horizon. 
As  the  fog  lifted,  the  glorious  sun  burst  forth,  not  gradually  or 
with  increasing  splendor,  but  in  one  rich,  sudden  flood  of 
glory.  The  animated  scene  was  kindled  as  if  by  magical  il 
lumination  ;  from  flank  to  flank,  each  host  was  visible  —  a  line 
of  polished  steel,  with  its  bright  lance-heads  twinkling  aloft 
like  stars,  and  its  emblazoned  banners  of  a  thousand  mingled 
hues,  floating  and  nestling  on  the  breath  of  morning. 

Louder  than  the  trumpet's  clamor,  louder  than  the  thunders 
of  the  ordnance  —  as  the  maiden's  signal  was  given,  as  she 
had  said  it,  from  on  high  —  pealed  the  exulting  shout  of  those 
assembled  myriads.  A  thousand  spurs  were  dashed  into  the 
horses'  flanks,  a  thousand  lances  levelled,  and  a  thousand  differ 
ent  war-cries  shouted  aloud,  as  the  French  chivalry  rushed  to 


THE    BATTLE.  193 

the  onset.  Their  infantry  had  been  drawn  up  in  solid  columns 
of  reserve,  while  the  archery  and  yeomen  of  the  English  force 
were  posted  within  the  lines,  which  were  fortified  by  a  long 
trench  and  palisade,  strengthened  at  intervals  by  half-moons 
of  stone,  and  masked  by  scattered  shrubs  and  coppice.  The 
charge  was,  therefore,  horse  to  horse,  and  knight  to  knight ; 
but  fiercely  as  the  main  bodies  rushed  to  the  encounter,  they 
were  yet  outstripped  by  a  score  of  leaders,  on  either  side,  who 
galloped  forth  to  redeem  their  plighted  words,  and  win  them 
glory  before  men,  and  love  of  ladies. 

The  king  and  Dunois  were  the  foremost,  but  ere  they  had 
met  their  antagonists,  a  third  rider  was  abreast  of  these.  The 
azure  panoply  and  scarf,  the  chestnut  charger,  the  slender 
form,  and  more  than  manly  grace,  announced  the  MAIDEN. 

Nor  were  the  English  champions  slower  in  the  shock Tal- 

bot  spurred  out,  and  Salisbury,  and  young  De  Vere.  D'Alen- 
9011  was  opposed  by  Somerset,  and  the  wise  regent  couched 
his  lance  against  the  breast  of  Dunois.  On  they  came,  with 
the  rush  of  the  whirlwind  —  a  long  series  of  single  combats. 
The  bay  destrier  of  D'Alengon  went  down  before  the  spear  of 
Somerset  — but  De  Vere's  life-blood  streamed  on  the  unsplin- 
tered  lance  of  Bourcicaut.  The  king  had  met  the  noble  Salis 
bury  in  stout  equality— their  lances  splintered  to  the  grasp, 
their  steeds  recoiling  on  their  haunches,  told  the  fury  of  the 
shock.  The  maid  had  couched  her  untried  weapon  against  no 
less  a  warrior  than  the  gallant  Talbot,  as  she  charged  side  by 
side  with  the  bold  bastard.  But,  had  the  lance  of  that  un 
rivalled  warrior  met  with  no  more  resistance  than  the  virgin's 
feeble  thrust,  that  day  had  ended  her  career.  Fair  and  knight 
ly  did  she  bear  her  weapon  against  his  triple-shield,  but  his 
lance-point,  levelled  at  her  crest,  encountered  the  bars  of  her 
elastic  vizor  ;  it  caught  firm  hold,  and  spurring  his  steed  more 
fiercely  on,  he  had  well  nigh  borne  her  from  the  selle.  But 

9 


194  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

there  was  one  who  marked  her  peril ;  Dunois,  even  in  the  in 
stant  of  the  shock,  beheld  her  overmatched,  and  well  nigh  con 
quered.  With  a  devotedness  of  valor  well  worthy  of  the  best 
cavalier  of  France,  he  turned  his  lance,  from  his  own  antago 
nist,  against  the  helm  of  Talbot,  meeting  the  overpowering 
charge  of  Bedford,  with  undaunted,  although  unresisting  firm 
ness.  It  was  over  in  an  instant :  Talbot,  although  unharmed 
by  the  slight  charge  of  Joan,  was  hurled  to  earth,  as  by  a  thun 
derbolt,  on  meeting  the  unlooked-for  weapon  of  Dunois,  in  the 
same  instant  that  his  conqueror  went  down  before  the  unhin 
dered  shock  of  Bedford. 

The  dark  tresses  of  the  maiden  streamed  upon  the  air,  her 
ecstatic  eye,  her  flushed  brow,  and  speaking  lineaments,  were 
exposed  to  the  brunt  of  battle  ;  for  the  lacings  of  her  casque 
had  broken,  and  she  had  escaped  being  unhorsed,  only  by  the 
scarce  inferior  peril  of  being  thus  violently  unhelmed.  Still 
she  was  unshaken  in  her  seat,  and,  as  she  was  borne  forward 
by  her  mettled  steed,  swinging  her  bright  espaldron  above  her 
head,  she  looked  rather  an  avenging  angel,  than  a  mortal  war 
rior.  In  the  rush,  Bedford  had  been  carried  over  his  fallen 
antagonist,  ere  he  could  check  his  charger  ;  and,  as  he  turned 
to  renew  the  combat,  the  maiden  wheeled  round  likewise  to 
rescue  her  preserver. 

"God  aid!"  she  cried  —  "God  aid! — The  virgin  to  the 
rescue  !"  and  as  his  eyes  were  directed  downward  to  the  un 
horsed  Dunois,  who  had  already  gained  his  feet  and  grasped 
his  massive  axe,_she  smote  him  on  the  casque  with  the  full 
sweep  of  her  two-handed  blade.  Sparks  of  fire  flashed  from 
the  concussion,  and  the  stout  regent  reeled  in  his  saddle.  An 
other  second,  and  the  axe  of  Dunois  fell  on  the  chamfront  of 
steel  that  protected  his  charger's  brow,  and,  dashing  it  to  atoms, 
sunk  deeply  into  the  brain  of  the  animal.  Down  went  Bedford, 
and  over  him  stood  his  conqueror,  with  his  poniard  already 


THE    VICTORY.  195 

pointed  to  the  barred  vizor,  and  his  deep  voice  summoning 
him  to  surrender.  But  the  summons  was  premature,  a  score 
of  English  knights  rushed  to  the  rescue,  while  the  king,  with 
La  Fayette,  Xaintrailles,  and  De  La  Hire,  bore  down  to  the 
support  of  his  companions.  Long  would  it  be,  and  tedious,  to 
recount  the  deeds  of  arms  that  were  performed,  the  brilliant 
valor  that  was  there  displayed.  The  melee  was  fought  out  by 
the  best  knights  of  France  and  England,  and  fought  with  equal 
vigor  ;  but  fate  was,  on  that  day,  adverse  to  the  bold  invaders. 
At  this  point  in  their  line,  and  at  this  point  only,  did  they  hold 
the  battle  in  suspense  ;  in  every  other  part  of  the  field  they 
were  already  foiled,  and  in  retreat ;  and  now,  as  the  chivalry 
of  Charles,  by  the  defeat  of  their  immediate  opponents,  was 
enabled  to  concentrate  their  forces,  Bedford,  and  Salisbury, 
and  Talbot,  whose  backs  no  Frenchman  had  ever  seen  before, 
were  fain  to  extricate  themselves,  as  best  they  might,  and  re 
treat  to  their  entrenchments.  Nor  was  this  last  effort  success 
ful,  till  they  had  left  a  fearful  number  of  their  best  and  bravest 
outstretched,  never  again  to  rise  upon  the  bloody  plain.  Foot 
by  foot,  they  retreated,  bearing  up  dauntlessly  against  their 
overwhelming  foes,  and  giving,  the  foremost  of  their  adversa 
ries  deep  cause  to  rue  their  rashness.  Bourcicaut  fell,  cloven 
to  the  teeth  by  Salisbury — the  right-arm  of  La  Fayette  was 
shattered  by  the  mace  of  Somerset — the  blood  was  gushing 
in  a  dozen  places  from  the  sable  armor  of  Dunois,  and  the 
golden  panoply  of  Charles  was  broken,  and  besmeared  with 
dust  and  gore. 

Still  not  a  man  of  those  bold  barons,  but  must  have  fallen, 
or  yielded  them  to  the  courtesy  of  their  antagonists,  had  not 
the  tide  of  battle  swept  them,  pursuers  and  pursued  alike,  to 
the  vicinity  of  the  British  line.  Then  rose  once  more  the 
jovial  island  shout — "  St.  George  !  St.  George  for  merry  Eng 
land  !"  A  heavy  and  incessant  shower  of  cloth-yard  shafts 


196        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

came  sailing  over  the  heads  of  the  retreating  party,  and  fell 
with  accurately-measured  aim,  and  terrible  effect,  into  the 
crowded  ranks  of  the  pursuers.  Then  came  the  roar  of  ord 
nance  ;  in  a  dozen  spots  the  ponderous  balls  of  stone  or  metal 
ploughed  their  paths  of  devastation  through  the  French  col 
umns  ;  while  under  cover  of  their  archery,  the  discomfited 
islanders  filed  slowly  into  their  entrenchments  —  Charles  draw 
ing  off  his  troops,  in  order  to  reform  his  array,  and  give  his 
men  brief  space  for  refreshment  and  repose,  ere  he  should 
make  his  final  effort  on  the  position  of  the  half-conquered 
Bedford. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    ASSAULT. 

"There  the  breach  lies  for  passage,  the  ladder  to  scale; 
And  your  hands  on  your  sabres,   and  how  should  ye  fail? 
He  who  first  downs  with  the  red-cross  may  crave 
His  heart's  dearest  wish;  let  him  ask  it,  and  have!" 
Thus  uttered  Coumourgi  the  dauntless  vizier; 
The  reply  was  the  brandish  of  sabre  and  spear, 
And  the  shout  of  fierce  thousands  in  joyous  ire: — 
Silence — hark  to  the  signal — fire." 

SIEGE  OF  CORINTH. 

THE  din  of  battle  ended  suddenly  as  it  had  commenced ; 
the  weary  and  discomfited  forces  of  the  islanders  were  now 
concealed  behind  their  palisades,  save  here  and  there  a  soli 
tary  warder,  pacing  to  and  fro  on  the  low  bastions,  his  steel-cap 
and  spear-point  flashing  back  the  rays  of  the  noontide  sun. 
The  long  array  of  France,  which  had  fallen  orderly  and  slowly 
back  without  the  flight  of  arrow  or  the  range  of  ordnance, 


BRIEF    INTERVAL    OF    QUIET.  197 

might  be  seen  midway  between  the  town  and  the  works  of  the 
besiegers.  Horses  were  picqueted,  and  outposts  stationed 
along  their  front ;  while,  their  weapons  stacked,  their  helmets 
unlaced,  and  their  bodies  cast  leisurely  on  the  ground,  the 
troops  enjoyed  to  the  utmost  their  brief  interval  of  truce. 
Camp  fires  had  been  lighted,  and  their  smoke  curled  peace 
fully  in  fifty  places  toward  the  bright  sky  above  them ;  sutlers 
had  come  out  from  the  town,  beeves  had  been  slaughtered, 
wine-casks  broached,  and  without  a  sign  of  revelry,  or  wild 
debauch,  the  army  feasted  after  their  noonday  strife. 

At  a  short  distance  in  advance  of  the  line  occupied  by  the 
main  body  of  the  forces,  there  stood  a  magnificent  elm-tree, 
the  only  one  in  sight,  which  had  risen  in  height  sufficient  to 
protect  those  beneath  its  shadow  from  the  glare  of  a  meridian 
sun.  Immediately  from  under  its  roots  a  pure  cold  spring 
welled  forth  into  a  basin  of  stone  artificially,  though  roughly, 
hewn  to  receive  its  waters  ;  and  trickling  thence  in  a  small 
but  limpid  streamlet  wound  its  way  toward  the  distant  river. 
Beneath  this  tree,  and  around  the  basin  of  the  spring,  a  group 
of  warriors  was  collected  whom  the  slightest  glance  might 
have  discovered  to  be  of  no  ordinary  rank  ;  their  splendid 
arms,  their  gallant  steeds,  let  forth  and  backward  by  squires 
of  gentle  birth  and  gay  attire,  and  their  emblazoned  banners 
pitched  into  the  ground  beside  their  place  of  rest,  designated 
at  once  the  leaders  of  the  host. 

A  wide  sheet  of  crimson  damask  had  been  spread  out  upon 
the  turf ;  bottians  of  leather  or  flasks  of  metal  were  plunged 
into  the  vivid  waters  to  cool  their  rich  contents  ;  goblets  of 
gold,  and  dishes  already  ransacked,  were  mingled  in  strange 
confusion  with  sculptured  helmets,  jewelled  poniards,  and  the 
hilts  of  many  a  two-handed  blade  cast  on  the  sod  in  readiness 
to  the  grasp  of  its  bold  owner. 

The  visage  of  the  king  was  flushed,  and  his  eye  sparkled 


198        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

with  the  intoxication,  not  of  the  grape,  but  of  his  recent  vic 
tory.  Nor  did  the  brow  of  Dunois  wear  its  wonted  gravity ; 
gay  words  and  boasts,  rendered  less  offensive  by  their  prowess 
of  the  morning,  passed  among  the  younger  knights  ;  but  on 
the  lips  of  Joan  there  was  no  smile,  and  in  her  eye  no  flash ; 
steadfastly  gazing  on  the  heavens,  she  sat  with  a  deep  shade 
of  melancholy  on  her  chiselled  lineaments,  resembling  rather 
some  sad  captive  waiting  the  hour  of  her  doom,  than  a  prophet 
ess  whose  words  had  been  accomplished — a  warrior  whose 
first  field  had  been  a  triumph. 

"  Why  lies  so  deep  a  shadow  on  the  brow  of  our  fair  cham 
pion  ?"  cried  the  youthful  monarch.  "  In  such  an  hour  as  this 
sadness  is  ominous,  and  open  melancholy — treason  !  Cheer 
thee,  bright  being  —  the  king  drinks  to  his  preserver !"  and, 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  filled  a  goblet  with  the  man 
tling  wine  of  Auvergnat,  and  tendered  it  to  the  silent  maiden. 
"  One  more  carouse,"  he  said,  "  and  then  to  horse,  to  horse, 
and  we  will  win  the  trenches  of  those  dog-islanders  ere  the 
sun  sinks  on  the  lea !" 

"  And  you  are  then  determined,"  she  replied  in  tones  of  sor 
rowful,  not  angry,  import ;  — "  and  you  are  then  determined  to 
risk  all — honor,  life,  victory,  your  country's  hope,  your  peo 
ple's  happiness,  by  this  mad  haste,  this  rash  and  obstinate  im 
piety  !  I  tell  you  now,  as  heretofore  I  told  you,  be  patient 
and  victorious  —  be  rash,  and  infamy  shall  fall  on  you;  the 
infamy  of  flight,  and  terror,  and  defeat !" 

"  I  am  determined !"  was  the  cool  and  somewhat  haughty 
answer ;  "  I  am  determined  to  force  these  ramparts  ere  I 
sleep  this  night ;  or  under  them  to  sleep  that  sleep  which 
knows  no  earthly  waking  !" 

"  And  thou  shalt  force  those  ramparts — wilt  thou  but  tarry. 
Tarry  till  the  shadows  of  this  elm-tree  fall  far  eastward  ;  till 
the  sun  hath  stooped  within  a  hand's  breadth  of  the  horizon  ; 


A    WARNING    DISREGARDED.  199 

<* 

tarry  till  then,  and  thou  shalt'conquer  —  advance  now,  and,  'tis 
I  that  say  it  —  I,  Joan  of  Orleans  —  advance  now,  and  thou 
shalt  rue  the  hour  !" 

"  Nay,  maiden,"  replied  Dunois,  who  hitherto  had  sat  a 
silent,  though  not  interested,  listener,  "  for  once  must  I  oppose 
thee  ;  to  tarry  would  be  but  to  give  space  to  the  troops  of  Bed 
ford  to  shake  off  their  superstitions — to  ours  to  lose  their  con 
fidence  of  glory.  To  tarry  is  defeat — to  advance,  victory! 
—  victory  as  surely  as  steel  blade  and  silver  hilt  may  hold 
together !" 

"  I  say  to  thee,  Dunois,"  she  answered,  "  the  ways  of  the 
Most  High  are  not  the  ways  of  man  !  He  who  hath  raised  a 
peasant-girl  to  be  a  royal  leader,  can  turn  defeat  to  victory, 
and  triumph  to  most  foul  disaster.  Neither  if  ye  advance,  as 
well  I  know  ye  will,  shall  the  steel  blade  and  silver  hilt  hold, 
as  their  wont,  together  !  Seeing,  thou  shalt  believe,  and  suf 
fering,  tremble  !" 

"  Enough  !"  shouted  the  impatient  king  ;  "  enough  of  this  — 
sound  trumpets,  and  advance  !" 

No  further  words  were  uttered,  nor  had  one  spoken  could 
the  import  of  his  speech  have  been  discovered,  among  the  clang 
ing  of  the  trumpets,  the  wild  shouts  of  the  troopers  hurrying  to 
their  ranks,  the  tramp  of  the  cavalry,  and  the  breathless  din  of 
the  advance. 

The  maiden  turned  her  dark  eyes  plaintively  upward ;  she 
stretched  her  arms  slowly  apart,  and  with  a  gaze  of  mute  ap 
peal  prayed  silently.  Her  brief  orisons  at  an  end,  she  too 
buckled  her  weapon  to  her  side,  laced  her  plumed  helmet,  and 
haughtily  rejecting  the  proffered  aid  of  Charles,  vaulted,  with 
out  the  use  of  rein  or  stirrup,  into  her  steel-bound  demipique. 
The  host  was  already  in  motion  —  marching  in  four  solid 
columns  against  the  besiegers'  lines  ;  the  knights  and  men-at- 
arms  dismounted  from  their  destriers,  crowding  the  front,  on 


200        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

foot,  with  mace,  and  battle-axe,  and  espaldron,  instead  of  lance 
and  pennon ;  their  hoods  of  mail  drawn  closely  over  their 
crested  helmets,  their  small  triangular  bucklers  flung  aside, 
and  each  protected  from  the  missiles  of  the  British  by  his 
huge  pavesse  of  polished  steel  without  device  or  bearing,  six 
feet  in  height,  and  three  in  breadth,  borne  by  his  squire  before 
him.  Behind  this  powerful  mass  came  on  the  pioneers,  with 
axe  and  mattock,  fagots  and  piles,  to  undermine  the  walls, 
ladders  to  scale  their  summits,  and  mantelets  of  plank  covered 
with  newly-severed  hides,  huge  machines,  beneath  the  protec 
tion  of  which  to  labor  at  the  walls  in  safety.  In  the  rear  the 
light-armed  followed  :  archers,  and  crossbowmen,  and  javelin- 
eers,  and  slingers.  It  was,  indeed,  a  host  to  strike  dismay 
into  the  hearts  of  the  defenders,  as  it  advanced  steadily  and 
silently,  with  the  deep  silence  of  resolve,  right  onward  to  the 
bastion. 

At  the  head  of  the  right-hand  column  rode  the  monarch, 
that  to  his  left  commanded  by  Dunois  —  Gaucourt  and  De  La 
Hire  leading  the  others  ;  and  the  maiden,  who  had  refused  to 
serve  save  as  a  private  lance,  riding  in  sullen  apathy  beside 
the  bridle-hand  of  the  bold  bastard.  At  a  short  mile's  distance 
the  columns  halted,  while  Dunois  and  the  leaders  galloped  for 
ward,  confident  in  their  coats  of  plate,  to  reconnoitre  the  posi 
tion  of  the  heavy  ordnance,  the  effects  of  which  they  had  too 
terribly  experienced  to  endure  without  an  effort  at  avoidance 
a  second  discharge,  which  to  troops  in  solid  column  must  have 
carried  certain  destruction.  Boldly  they  performed  their  duty, 
dashing  up  to  within  twenty  paces  of  the  outworks,  under  a 
storm  of  bolts  and  shafts,  that  rattled  against  their  armor  as 
closely,  but  as  harmlessly,  as  hail-stones  on  a  castle-wall. 
Two  batteries  were  at  once  discovered,  and  as  the  rude  artil 
lery  of  that  day,  placed,  when  about  to  be  discharged,  on  mo 
tionless  beds  of  timber,  and  dragged,  when  on  the  march,  by 


THE    CHARGE.  201 

teams  of  oxen,  could  not  be  made  to  traverse  or  command  any 
other  points  than  those  on  which  it  had  been  previously  laid, 
there  was  but  little  fear  of  so  arranging  the  advance  as  to 
avoid  their  fatal  fire.  Still  as  he  returned  the  last  from  his 
reconnoissance,  Dunois  was  ill  at  ease.  "  There  should  be 
yet  another,"  he  muttered  ;  "  and  to  encounter  it  were  certain 
ruin.  A  murrain  on  that  wily  regent ;  now  hath  he  masked  it 
cunningly !" 

But  there  was  no  space  for  further  parley ;  with  the 
bray  of  the  trumpets,  and  the  deep  clang  of  the  kettle-drum,  the 
signal  for  the  charge  was  given  ;  the  soldiery  of  France  de 
ployed  from  column  into  line,  and  with  a  quickened  step  and 
levelled  weapons  rushed  forward  to  the  assault.  At  the  dis 
tance  of  some  fifty  paces  from  the  works  of  the  besiegers,  the 
ground  was  rugged  and  broken,  the  channel  of  a  dry  rivulet 
running  the  whole  length  of  their  front,  its  banks  scattered 
with  blocks  of  stone,  and  thickly  planted  with  thorny  shrubs. 
The  troops,  which  had  been  formed  obliquely  to  avoid  the  fire 
of  the  artillery,  had  advanced  into  this  difficult  pass  before  they 
were  well  aware  of  its  existence,  and  before  meeting  with  any 
opposition  from  the  enemy.  The  most  broken  ground  had  been 
selected  by  Dunois  as  the  point  of  attack,  hoping  by  that 
means  to  escape  the  range  not  only  of  the  two  batteries,  which, 
having  been  discovered,  he  had  already  guarded  against,  but 
that  of  a  third  which  had  been  so  cunningly  masked,  as  to 
defy  the  closest  observation.  Well,  however,  as  this  had  been 
devised,  it  so  fell  out  that  the  column  of  the  king,  which,  part 
ly  through  the  obstinacy  of  the  royal  chief,  and  partly  from  the 
ill  advice  of  leaders  jealous  of  the  gallant  bastard,  had  failed 
to  deploy  with  the  remainder  of  the  host,  advanced  blindly  in 
its  crowded  ranks  upon  the  very  muzzles  of  the  concealed  ord 
nance.  Hitherto  not  a  symptom  of  resistance  had  appeared  ; 
not  a  man  had  been  seen  upon  the  English  ramparts ;  not  a 

9* 


202  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

banner  was  displayed,  not  a  trumpet  blown.  But  at  this  in 
stant —  when  the  line  had  been  compelled  to  halt,  within  half 
bow-shot  of  the  bastions,  while  the  pioneers,  with  axe  and 
mattock,  were  clearing  the  ground  in  their  front — at  this  in 
stant  the  wailing  note  of  a  single  bugle  rang  from  within  the 
works.  Ere  the  signal  had  well  reached  the  assailants,  the 
rampart  was  thronged  from  end  to  end  with  thousands  of  the 
green-frocked  archery  of  England  ;  again  the  bugle  was  wind 
ed,  and  at  that  brief  distance  the  cloth-yard  shafts  fell  in  one 
continuous  volley,  darkening  the  air  with  their  numbers,  and 
almost  drowning  the  shouts  of  the  battle  with  their  incessant 
whizzing.  Close,  however,  as  they  fell  and  bodily,  each  ar 
row  there  was  aimed  at  its  peculiar  mark  ;  and  each,  with  few 
exceptions,  was  buried  feather-deep  in  the  breast  of  a  French 
skirmisher.  It  was  in  vain  that  they  replied  to  that  blighting 
volley  with  cross-bow,  bolt,  and  javelin,  no  missiles  could  com 
pete  with  that  unrivalled  archery  ;  the  advance  was  strewn 
upon  the  ground  in  heaps  of  slaughtered  carcases  ;  the  host 
wavered  and  was  about  to  fly — but  then  arose  the  trumpet- 
like  shout  of  Dunois. 

"  On  !  on  !  Orleans  !  Orleans  !  to  the  rescue  !  Close  up  ! 
— close  up !  even  to  the  palisades  ;  it  is  but  a  distance  that 
their  shot  is  deadly." 

And,  seconding  his  words  by  deeds,  the  powerful  knight 
rushed  forth,  bearing  his  pavesse  high  on  his  left  arm,  and  his 
massive  axe  sweeping  in  circles  round  his  head  —  a  dozen 
arrows  struck  him  on  the  crest  and  corslet  and  glanced  off 
harmlessly — on  he  rushed,  though  every  step  was  planted  on 
a  writhing  corpse,  and  none  came  on  to  second  him — he 
reached  the  base  of  the  rampart,  his  axe  smote  on  the  timbers 
of  the  palisade,  and  down  came  stones,  and  beams,  and  shaft, 
and  javelin,  ringing  and  rattling  upon  his  heavy  shield  and 
panoply  of  proof ;  yet  he  heeded  them  no  more  than  the  oak 


THE    BREACH.  203 

heeds  the  thistle-down  that  floats  upon  the  summer  wind. 
Valor,  like  terror,  is  contagious  ;  with  a  mighty  effort  a  dozen 
knights  broke  through  the  throng  of  their  own  disordered  sol 
diery,  and  forced  their  way  to  the  side  of  the  bold  bastard — 
but  not  like  him  unharmed  ;  an  arrow  skilfully  directed  against 
the  vizor  of  young  Delaserre,  shot  through  the  narrow  aper 
ture,  and  clove  his  brain ;  a  ponderous  axe,  hurled  from  the 
hand  of  Salisbury,  crushed  through  the  cerveilliere  of  Mont- 
morency,  as  though  it  were  a  bowl  of  crystal ;  yet  still  un 
dauntedly  they  hurried  on  —  and  now  they  joined  their  leader. 
The  dust  already  eddying  upward,  the  heavy  masses  of  wood 
and  timber  that  rolled  down  beneath  his  ponderous  blows, 
showed  that  his  attack  was  prosperous  as  it  was  gallant.  The 
din  of  blows  given  and  taken,  hand  to  hand,  between  or  above 
the  broken  palisades,  was  mingled  with  the  hurtling  of  the  ar 
rows,  the  shouts  or  cries  of  the  fierce  combatants. 

"  On  !  on  !"  the  voice  of  Dunois  rose  again  above  the  confu 
sion —  "On!  on!  the  breach  is  opened!  —  Orleans  and  vic 
tory  !"  but  as  he  spoke,  a  stone  heavier  than  any  yet  hurled 
against  him,  fell  from  a  huge  machine  full  on  his  lifted  pavesse  ; 
his  arm  fell  powerless  by  his  side,  and  the  tall  warrior  reeled 
backward  from  the  breach,  dizzy  and  helpless  as  a  child — but 
yet  more  evil  was  the  fate  of  his  companions  ;  one  dropped, 
crushed  out  of  the  very  form  of  humanity,  by  the  same  stone  ; 
and  then  a  flood  of  boiling  oil  was  showered  upon  the  heads 
of  the  weak  and  wearied  remnant. 

"St.  George  for  merry  England !  —  forward  brave  hearts, 
and  drive  them  from  our  palisades  !"  and  with  the  word,  Bed 
ford  and  Huntingdon  leaped  down  with  axe  and  espaldron, 
while  many  a  youthful  aspirant  rushed  after  them  in  desperate 
emulation.  The  gallant  Dunois,  roused  like  a  wearied  war- 
horse  to  the  fray,  fought  fearlessly  and  well  ;  yet  his  blows 
fell  no  longer,  as  was  their  wont,  like  hammers  on  the  anvil — 


204         THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

his  breath  came  thick,  the  sweat  rolled  in  black  drops  through 
the  bars  of  his  vizor ;  he  staggered  beneath  the  blade  of  Bed 
ford.  At  this  perilous  moment,  a  roar,  louder  than  the  ocean 
in  its  fury,  louder  than  the  Alpine  avalanche,  burst  on  their 
sens< -'S.  "  God  aid  the  king,"  cried  Dunois,  even  in  this 
extremity  careless  of  his  own  peril  —  "it  is  the  British  ord 
nance  !" 

The  smoke  rolled  like  a  funeral  pall  over  the  fray,  that  still 
raged  beneath  it ;  and  a  mingled  clamor,  as  of  thousands  in 
agony  and  despair,  smote  on  the  ears  and  appalled  the  hearts 
of  the  half-conquered  Frenchmen.  The  column  of  the  king 
had  advanced  upon  the  very  muzzles  of  the  ordnance,  as  with 
heavy  loss  from  the  archery  they  too  had  passed  the  channel 
of  the  stream,  and  had  but  narrowly  escaped  annihilation.  A 
mounted  messenger  came  dashing  through  the  strife,  "  Draw 
off  your  men,  Dunois,"  he  shouted  from  a  distance  ;  "  draw  off 

—  no  victory  to-day  !" 

But  he  shouted  to  no  purpose,  for  the  bold  ear  which  he  ad 
dressed  was  for  a  space  sealed  in  oblivion  deep  as  the  grave 
— his  well-tried  sword  had  shivered  in  his  grasp,  stunned  by 
the  sweeping  strokes  of  Bedford — he  had  fallen,  and  must 
there  have  perished,  had  not  a  young  knight,  in  azure  panoply, 
bestriven  him,  and  battled  it  right  gallantly  above  his  senseless 
form. 

It  was  the  maiden !  Fresh  and  unwearied  she  sprang  to 
the  strife  from  which  she  had  refrained  before,  and  he,  her 
terrible  antagonist,  the  unvanquished  Bedford,  reeled  before 
her  blows. 

Gathering  himself  to  his  full  height  as  he  retreated  from  the 
sway  of  her  two-handed  blade,  he  struck  a  full  blow  with  his 
axe  upon  her  crest,  and  again  the  treacherous  helm  gave  way 

—  her  dark  hair  streamed  on  the  wind,  and  her  eagle  eye  met 
his  with  an  unblenching  gaze  ;  at  the  same  point  of  time  an  ar- 


THE    VICTORY.  205 

row  grazed  her  neck,  and  quivered  in  the  joint  of  her  gorget. 
"  Fly  !  fly  !"  shouted  the  crowd  behind  her,  who  had  again 
rallied  during  her  combat  with  the  regent — "fly!  fly!  the 
maid  is  slain  !" 

"  Fly  not,  vile  cravens — fly  not/'  she  cried  in  tones  clearer 
than  human,  as  she  pressed  bare-headed  after  the  retreating 
Bedford  —  "fly  not,  the  time  hath  come,  and  victory  is  ours  ! 
— Joan!  Joan!  to  the  rescue  !  Victory!  God  sends  —  God 
sends  us  victory  !  The  sun  is  in  the  west  —  our  toils  are 
ended !" 

At  her  high  voice,  many  an  eye  was  turned  toward  the  west 
ern  horizon,  and  her  well-remembered  prophecy  cheered  their 
faint  hearts  and  nerved  their  faltering  courage.  The  day  had 
been  spent,  had  been  forgotten,  in  the  fearful  strife,  and  the 
sun  was  hanging  like  a  shield  of  gold  a  hand's  breadth  high  in 
the  horizon.  Like  wild-fire  in  the  stubblefield  the  clamor 
spread  —  "  Heaven  fights  for  France  !  Victory  !  —  God  sends 
us  victory !"  and  still,  at  the  cry,  they  pressed  onward  with  re 
newed  vigor  to  the  breach.  It  was  in  vain  that  Salisbury  and 
Talbot  strove  —  that  Bedford  plied  his  axe,  taking  a  mortal  life 
at  every  blow — for  a  panic,  a  fatal,  superstitious  panic,  had 
seized  on  their  victorious  countrymen.  At  every  charge  of 
the  encouraged  Frenchmen — at  every  repetition  of  the  cry, 
"  Heaven  fights  for  France,"  they  shrunk  back  timid  and 
abashed ;  and  it  was  of  necessity,  though  with  evident  reluc 
tance,  that  the  leaders  of  the  English  war  gave  orders  to  with 
draw  the  men  from  the  sally,  and  trust  only  to  the  defence  of 
their  entrenchments. 

There  was  a  brief  pause  —  a  silence  like  that  which  pre 
cedes  the  burst  of  the  thunder-cloud — as  Joan  arrayed  her 
followers  —  "Forward,"  she  cried,  "and  conquer!  Heaven 
has  given  us  the  strength  —  the  valor — and  the  victory!  — 
Forward  and  conquer !"  and  with  the  word,  the  living  torrent 


206  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

was  let  loose  against  the  breach.  It  was  but  a  girl — a  weak,- 
bare-headed  girl — that  led  them,  mingling  in  deadly  strife 
with  the  best  champions  of  the  day ;  yet  superstition  and  suc 
cess  were  stronger  than  the  shield  or  crested  casque.  Her 
cry  struck  terror  to  the  hearts  of  the  defenders  ;  her  sword 
was  scarcely  parried  in  its  sweeping  blows  ;  her  foot  was 
planted  on  the  summit  of  the  breach  ;  her  sacred  banner  floated 
above  her  head.  From  point  to  point  her  prophecy  had  been 
accomplished  ;  the  sun  had  sunk  in  the  west,  and  his  last  rays 
had  shone  upon  the  triumph  of  the  French — upon  the  rout, 
the  carnage,  and  the  desolation  of  their  island  foemen. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    CORONATION. 

Lord  Bishop,  set  the  crown  upon  his  head. 

KING  HENRY  VI 

THE  capture  of  the  English  lines  at  Orleans  was  not  a  soli 
tary  or  unsupported  triumph  of  the  French.  On  the  succeed 
ing  morning  not  a  trace  of  the  discomfited  islanders  could  be 
discovered  from  the  walls  of  the  long-beleagured  city,  save 
the  shattered  and  deserted  bastions  so  lately  occupied  by  their 
green-frocked  archery,  and  the  heaps  of  their  unburied  dead, 
which  choked  the  trenches,  and  tainted  the  pure  atmosphere 
with  their  charnel  exhalations.  Nor  was  this  all.  The  con 
fidence  of  France  had  been  restored  to  a  degree  unwonted,  if 
not  unknown,  before.  The  virgin  fought  not  but  to  conquer. 
Gergeau  was  taken  by  assault ;  the  daring  girl  mounting  the 
foremost,  and  carrying  the  walls,  though  wounded,  with  un- 


TO    RHEIMS  !  207 

daunted  spirit.  Beaugency  opened  its  gates  at  the  first  sum 
mons  ;  and  the  British  garrison,  which  had  retired  to  the 
castle,  yielded  on  fair  condition.  Roused  from  his  long  in 
action  by  this  series  of  bright  successes,  the  constable  of 
France  levied  his  vassals  to  share  the  triumphs  of  the  royal 
army.  Nor  were  the  English  idle.  Bedford,  who  had  by 
dint  of  unexampled  perseverance  collected  some  six  thousand 
men  to  reinforce  the  relics  of  the  host  which,  under  the  brave 
but  wary  Talbot,  still  kept  the  field,  effected  his  junction  at 
Patai-en-Beauce,  but  effected  it  not  unmolested.  "  We  must 
give  battle,"  cried  the  heroic  Joan ;  "  we  must  give  battle  to 
the  English  were  they  horsed  upon  the  clouds  —  ay !  and 
equip  ourselves  with  right  good  spurs  for  the  pursuit." 

She  fought  again,  and  was  again  successful ;  and  this  day 
more  than  all  decided  the  fortunes  of  the  land.  The  British 
troops,  struck  down  from  their  high  pitch,  heart-sick  with  super 
stition,  and  half-defeated  before  a  blow  was  stricken,  scarcely 
awaited  the  first  onslaught  of  the  French,  who  charged  with  a 
degree  of  confidence  that  insured  the  result  by  which  it  was  so 
fully  justified. 

And  now  the  object  of  the  maiden's  mission  was  brought 
forth  in  council.  "  To  Rheims,"  she  cried,  "  to  Rheims  !  it  is 
the  will  of  God !"  To  every  argument  that  was  adduced 
against  her,  she  had  no  other  answer.  "  To  this  end  am  I  in 
spired —  to  this  end  was  I  sent  —  that  I  should  conduct  this 
son  of  France  in  triumph  to  the  walls  of  Rheims,  and  crown 
him  with  the  diadem  of  Clovis.  The  way  is  clear  before  us 
— the  sword  of  the  Most  High  hath  fallen  on  the  foes  of 
France — the  victory  lacks  only  its  accomplishment!" 

It  was  in  vain  that  Richmont  the  gallant  constable  opposed 
the  scheme  as  visionary,  the  march  as  desperate.  The 
haughty  spirit  of  Charles  himself  was  now  aroused,  and  his 
best  counsellors,  Dunois,  La  Hire,  and  D'Alen9on,  approved 


208  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF   ARC. 

the  project.  The  recent  services  of  Richmont  were  all  forgot 
ten  ;  his  disgrace  ensued,  and  in  solitude  he  learned  that  to 
say  unwelcome  truths  to  princes  is  a  counterpoise  to  the  most 
exalted  merit,  to  the  most  splendid  virtues. 

The  army  marched  through  a  waste  tract  of  country,  occu 
pied  by  the  troops  of  England,  hostile  or  disaffected  ;  without 
provisions,  equipage,  or  baggage  ;  with  banners  waving,  and 
music  pealing,  like  some  gay  procession  in  the  high-tide  of 
peace,  the  army  marched  for  Rheims.  No  human  forethought 
could  have  calculated  the  effect — no  human  intelligence  could 
have  divined  the  wonderful  result.  Defeat,  destruction,  and 
despair,  could  only  have  been  looked  for — these  the  natural, 
the  almost  certain  consequences  of  such  a  step.  They  marched, 
and  every  fortress  sent  its  keys  to  Joan  in  peaceable  submis 
sion  ;  every  city  threw  its  gates  apart  for  her  admission  ;  the 
country  people  flocked  in  thousands  to  behold  the  pomp,  to 
glut  their  eyes  with  gazing  on  the  heavenly  maiden,  to  tender 
their  allegiance  to  the  king  —  to  bless,  and  almost  to  adore  the 
savior  of  their  country.  Not  a  fort  was  guarded  by  the  British 
archery ;  not  a  bridge  was  broken  to  delay  her  progress  ;  not 
an  enemy  was  seen  throughout  the  march.  The  spirit,  the 
enthusiastic  spirit  of  the  prophet-maiden,  had  spread  like  a 
contagious  flame  throughout  the  land ;  the  confidence  in  her 
had  wrought  the  miracle  ;  the  valor  of  the  determined  was 
augmented  ;  the  doubts  of  the  wavering  dispersed ;  the  fears 
of  the  timid  put  to  flight.  Beneath  the  walls  of  Troyes,  for 
the  first  time,  was  her  career  disputed.  The  Drawbridges 
were  up  ;  the  frowning  ramparts  bristled  with  pikes  and  par 
tisans  ;  the  heavy  ordnance  levelled,  and  the  lintstocks  blazing 
in  the  grasp  of  the  Burgundian  cannoniers. 

The  army  was  arrayed  for  the  assault ;  ladders  were  hastily 
collected ;  mantelets  and  pavesses  were  framed  as  best  they 
might  be,  on  this  emergency  unlocked  for  and  ill-omened. 


AT    TROYES.  209 

The  bold  visage  of  Dunois  was  graver  than  its  wont,  and  the 
gay  jest  died  on  the  lips  of  D'Alen^on.  Well  did  those  poli 
tic  commanders  know  that  to  be  checked  was  in  itself  destruc 
tion.  Founded  upon  the  widely-credited  report  that  their  suc 
cess  was  certain,  it  was  indeed  secure.  But  let  that  supersti 
tious  faith  be  shaken,  and  the  spell  was  broken.  Let  but  the 
English  learn  that  victory  were  not  impossible,  and  they  would 
be  again  victorious.  Let  but  the  French  discover  that  Joan 
might  be  defeated,  and  they  would  faint  again  and  fly  before 
their  foemen.  Now,  then,  was  to  be  the  touchstone  of  their 
power,  the  proof  of  their  success;  and  now  —  it  would  be 
scarce  too  much  to  say  —  those  undaunted  leaders  trembled, 
not  for  themselves,  nor  with  a  base  and  coward  fear ;  but  with 
a  high  and  patriotic  apprehension  for  the  safety  of  their  coun 
try  and  their  king,  for  the  accomplishment  of  their  designs, 
for  the  well-being  of  the  myriads  intrusted  to  their  charge. 

Bows  were  already  bent,  and  lances  levelled,  when  the 
maid  herself  rode  forth.  All  armed,  from  spur  to  gorget,  in 
her  azure  panoply,  but  with  her  beaming  features  and  dark 
locks  uncovered  by  the  cerveilliere  or  vizor  of  her  plumed  hel 
met,  she  rode  forth  a  bow-shot  in  the  front.  The  consecrated 
banner  was  elevated  in  her  right  hand,  while  with  her  left 
she  turned  and  wound  the  fiery  charger  with  an  "easy  govern 
ment,  that  well  might  be  considered  the  result  of  supernatural 
powers.  Her  sheathed  sword  hung  by  its  embroidered  bal- 
drick  from  the  shoulder  to  the  spur ;  her  mace-at-arms  and 
battle-axe  were  ready  at  the  saddle-bow ;  her  triangular  shield 
of  Spanish  steel  was  buckled  round  her  neck  ;  yet  fully  equip 
ped  for  war,  her  errand  was  of  peace. 

"  Jesu  Maria !"  she  cried,  "  good  friends  and  dear,"  in  ac 
cents  so  trumpet-like  in  their  intense  and  thrilling  clearness, 
that  every  ear  in  either  host  caught  the  sounds,  and  every 
bosom  throbbed  at  their  import.  "  Good  friends  and  dear — 


210        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

for  so  with  you  it  rests  to  be  —  lords,  burgesses,  inhabitants 
of  this  fair  town  of  Troyes,  the  virgin,  Joan,  commands  ye  — 
that  ye  may  know  it  from  the  King  of  heaven,  her  liege  and 
sovereign  lord,  in  whose  most  royal  service  she  abideth  every 
day — that  you  shall  make  true  homage  to  this  gentle  king  of 
France,  who  soon  shall  be  at  Rheims,  and  soon  at  Paris,  who 
standeth  now  to  the  fore  !  By  the  help  of  your  King,  Jesus, 
true  and  loyal  Frenchmen,  come  forth  to  succor  your  king, 
Charles  —  so  shall  there  be  no  blame  !"* 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  pause — but  for  a  moment  only. 
The  spears  fell  from  the  hands  of  the  defenders  ;  the  banners 
were  lowered ;  the  gates  opened.  'The  Burgundian  garrison 
retired ;  the  citizens  of  Troyes  rushed  forth  with  joyful  ac 
clamations,  casting  themselves  prostrate  before  the  charger  of 
the  maiden,  covering  her  stirrups  with  their  kisses,  and  shed 
ding  tears  of  unfeigned  happiness. 

The  army  reached  the  brow  of  the  last  hill  that  overlooks 
the  rich  and  lovely  district  in  which  the  ancient  town  of 
Rheims  is  situated,  and  never  did  a  sight  more  glorious  meet 
the  eyes  of  youthful  monarch  than  that  which  lay  outstretched 
before  him.  It  was  early  in  the  month  of  July,  the  earth  gay 
in  its  greenest  pomp  of  foliage,  its  richest  flush  of  bloom  ;  the 
heavens  dazzlingly  blue  ;  the  air  mild  and  balmy ;  the  wild 
landscape  diversified  with  its  laughing  vineyards,  its  white 
hamlets,  its  shadowy  forests  ;  the  silvery  line  of  the  river 
Vele  flashing  and  sparkling  in  sunshine  ;  and  the  gray  towers 
of  Rheims  arising  from  a  mass  of  tufted  woodland  in  the  cen 
tre  of  the  picture;  and  all  this  was  his — his  heritage  —  his 
birthright — wrested  from  his  hand  by  the  mailed  gripe  of  the 

*  For  the  singular,  and  as  we  should  now  consider  them,  almost  blas 
phemous,  antitheses,  of  the  speech  of  Joan,  the  author  is  not  answerable. 
This  strange  medley  of  feudalism,  superstition,  and  loyalty,  being  a  true 
and  authentic  document. 


NEAR    RHEIMS.  211 

invader — redeemed,  recaptured,  but  to  be  restored  by  the  fair, 
frail  being,  who  sat  beside  him,  her  bright  eyes  flashing  with 
triumph,  and  her  whole  frame  quivering  with  the  well-nigh 
unearthly  rapture  of  the  moment. 

Before  their  feet  the  road  fell  rapidly  into  a  deep  ravine 
with  sandy  banks,  partially  shadowed  by  stunted  shrubs,  and 
patches  of  furze  with  its  dark  prickly  masses  beautifully  con 
trasted  by  its  golden  bloom  ;  beyond  this  gorge  lay  a  thick 
woodland,  through  which  the  highway  might  be  seen  wander 
ing  in  irregular  curves,  with  a  license  not  often  found  in  the 
causeways  of  La  belle  France.  On  the  summit  of  this  hill,  the 
monarch  and  his  immediate  train  had  halted,  while  the  ad 
vanced  guard,  a  brilliant  corps  of  light-armed  cavalry — prickers, 
as  they  were  termed,  with  long,  light  lances  for  their  only 
weapon,  and  mounted  cross-bowmen,  filed  slowly  forward, 
company  after  company,  veiling  their  gay  banners,  and  salu 
ting  with  trailed  weapons  and  bended  heads,  as  they  passed, 
the  presence.  In  the  rear  the  long  array  came  trooping  on ; 
for  miles  and  miles  the  champaign  country  was  overrun  with 
scouring  parties,  and  light  detachments,  hurrying  in  concentric 
lines  toward  the  place  of  their  destination  ;  while  the  cause 
ways  were  so  thronged  as  to  be  almost  impassable,  with  solid 
columns  of  men-at-arms,  trains  of  artillery,  and  all  the  para 
phernalia  of  an  army  on  the  march . 

The  light-armed  horsemen,  file  after  file,  swept  out  of  sight, 
and  still  as  they  were  lost  in  the  recesses  of  the  shadowy 
woodland,  fresh  troops  mounted  the  summit,  and  deployed 
from  column  into  line,  until  the  whole  ridge  of  the  hill  was 
covered  with  a  dense  and  threatening  mass,  in  the  dark  out 
lines  of  which  it  would  have  required  no  unnatural  stretch  of 
fancy  to  discover  the  likeness  of  a  thunder-cloud  ;  while  the 
dazzling  rays  of  the  sun  flashed  back  from  casque  or  corslet 
might  have  passed  for  the  electric  fluid. 


212  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

Tidings  had  reached  the  army,  at  the  halt  of  the  preceding 
night,  that  Rheims  like  Troyes  was  garrisoned  with  a  Bur- 
gundian  force  of  full  three  thousand  lances  ;  a  power,  which, 
amounting  to  five  times  that  number  of  men-at-arms,  it  would 
have  been  an  arduous  task  for  Charles  to  encounter  in  the 
open  field  ;  and  which,  when  fighting  from  the  vantage  ground 
of  wall  and  battlement,  and  under  the  guidance  of  warriors  so 
renowned  as  the  counts  of  Saveuse  and  of  Chatillon-sur- 
Harne,  he  could  not  even  hope  to  conquer. 

It  was  for  this,  then,  that  the  royal  army  halted,  till  their 
prickers  might  return  with  tidings  from  the  vicinage  of  Rheims, 
lest,  upon  marching  down  from  the  strong  eminences  which  it 
now  occupied,  it  should  become  entangled  among  the  swamps 
and  thickets  of  the  forest,  and  so  be  taken  by  the  foe  at  disadvan 
tage.  Not  long,  however,  were  they  compelled  to  tarry  ;  for 
the  troops  had  scarcely  piled  their  arms,  and  the  fires  were 
not  yet  kindled  to  prepare  the  mid-day  meal,  ere  a  sound  of 
music  came  faintly  up  the  wind  ;  so  faintly,  that  it  could  not  be 
discovered  whether  it  were  a  point  of  war,  or  a  mere  peaceful 
flourish  that  was  uttered  by  the  distant  trumpets.  A  moment 
ensued  of  thrilling  interest — of  excitement  almost  fearful  — 
then  was  heard  the  clang-  of  hoofs,  and  a  pricker  spurred 
fiercely  up  the  hill.  "  To  arms,"  he  cried,  "  to  arms,  the  ene 
my  are  in  the  field — to  arms  !"  Then  came  the  quick,  stern 
orders  of  the  leaders  ;  horses  were  unpicqueted,  and  riders 
mounted  ;  the  preparations  for  the  feast  made  way  for  prepara 
tions  of  a  sterner  nature.  Another  moment  brought  in  another 
rider  —  a  column  of  cavalry  was  already  entering  the  forest,  at 
the  least  five  thousand  strong,  but  yet  their  Burgundian  cross. 
Gradually  the  din  of  the  music  approached,  and  the  notes 
might-be  distinguished.  Trumpet,  and  kettle-drum,  and  cym 
bal,  sent  forth  their  mingled  strains,  but  not  in  warlike  har 
mony.  Anon  the  cavalcade  drew  nigh,  and,  like  the  music 


THE    WELCOME.  213 

which  had  preceded  its  arrival,  it  was  peaceful.  Heralds  and 
pursuivants  rode  in  the  front  on  snow-white  horses,  with  trum 
peters  on  foot,  and  grooms  beside  their  bridle-reins  ;  then 
came  the  burgesses  of  Rheims  in  their  embroidered  pourpoints 
of  dark  taffeta,  with  golden  chains  about  their  necks,  and  .vel 
vet  caps  above  their  honest  features  ;  minstrels  and  jongleurs 
followed,  with  here  a  cowled  priest,  and  there  a  flaunting  dam 
sel  of  the  lower  class,  crowding  to  see  the  show.  Before  the 
steed  of  the  chief  echevin  strode  a  burly-looking  servitor  in 
the  rich  liveries  of  the  city,  carrying  a  gorgeous  standard  em 
blazoned  with  the  quarterings  of  Rheims,  while  on  a  velvet 
cushion  by  his  side,  his  fellow  bore  the  massive  keys,  their 
dark  and  rusty  iron  contrasting  strangely  with  the  crimson 
velvet  and  the  golden  fringes  of  the  cushion  which  supported 
them. 

"  Tete  Dieu,  my  Dunois,"  cried  Charles,  with  an  exulting 
smile.  "  These  are  no  spears  of  Burgundy,  nor  shall  we  need 
to  break  one  lance  to  win  our  entrance  ?  Lo  !  the  good 
citizens  come  forth  to  greet  us.  All  thanks  to  thee,  bright 
maiden." 

"All  thanks  to  Him  who  sent  me — all  praises  and  all 
glory !"  replied  the  virgin.  "Not  my  arm — not  the  arm  of 
man,  not  all  the  might  of  warfare  could  else  have  forced  a 
passage  hither  !  Be  humble  and  be  grateful,  else  shall  thy 
fall  be  sudden  and  disastrous,  as  thy  rising  hath  been  unex 
pected,  and  superb  withal,  and  joyous  !" 

Yet  as  she  spoke  the  words  of  calm  humility,  her  mien  be 
lied  her  accents.  Her  eyes  sparkled,  her  bosom  heaved,  her 
bright  complexion  went  and  came  again,  and  her  lip  paled,  as 
the  blood  coursed  more  fiercely  than  its  wont  through  her 
transparent  veins.  As  the  column  of  the  citizens  approached, 
the  pursuivants,  the  heralds,  and  the  minstrels,  opening  their 
ranks  on  either  hand,  and  filing  to  the  left  and  right  of  the 


214  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

royal  presence,  she  flung  abroad  the  folds  of  her  consecrated 
banner,  and  gave  her  fiery  steed  the  spur,  till  he  caracoled  in 
fierce  impatience  against  the  curb  which  checked  him. 

"  All  hail !"  she  cried  in  a  voice  that  all  might  hear,  so  clear 
it  was  and  thrilling,  though  pitched  in  the  low  tones  of  feeling — 
"  all  hail,  Charles,  by  the  special  providence  of  Heaven,  that 
shalt,  ere  the  sun  sinks,  be  king  and  lord  of  France  !" 

For  an  instant  there  was  a  pause,  and  then,  "  all  hearts  and 
tongues  uniting  in  that  cry,"  the  woodlands  echoed  for  miles 
around  to  the  shout,  louder  than  the  shock  of  charging  squad 
rons  :  "  Life  —  life  to  Charles  —  our  true,  our  gentle  king!" 

Gayly  did  the  procession  then  advance  ;  no  more  of  doubt, 
no  more  of  hesitation  as  they  threaded  the  leafy  vistas  of  the 
forest !  All  was  calm,  and  sunshiny,  and  bright,  to  the  hopes 
of  the  young  monarch,  as  were  the  limpid  waters,  and  the 
laughing  landscape,  and  the  summer  skies,  that  looked  so 
cheeringly  upon  his  hour  of  triumph. 

A  few  short  hours  brought  them  to  the  gates  of  Rheims,  and 
with  the  clang  of  instruments,  and  the  deep  diapason  often  thou 
sand  human  voices,  Charles  and  his  youthful  champion  entered 
that  ancient  city,  the  goal  of  so  many  labors,  the  reward  of  so 
much  perseverance.  The  streets  were  strewed  with  flowers; 
the  walls  were  hung  with  tapestries  of  Luxembourg  and  Arras  ; 
the  balconies  were  crowded  with  the  bright  and  beautiful ;  the 
doorways  thronged  with  happy  faces  ;  and  the  whole  atmo 
sphere  alive  with  merriment  and  triumph.  That  very  night  the 
marechals  of  Boussac  and  Rieu  were  sent  to  St.  Remi  bearing 
the  greetings  of  the  virgin,  Joan,  to  bring  thence  the  holy 
flask  of  oil — oil,  which,  if  ancient  legends  may  be  credited, 
had  been  brought  from  heaven  by  a  dove  to  Clovis,  when  the 
bold  Frank  laid  the  first  foundation  of  the  Gallic  monarchy. 

The  morning,  so  earnestly  desired,  had  at  length  arrived ; 
the  court  before  the  towers  of  the  old  cathedral  was  crowded 


THE    CORONATION.  215 

well-nigh  to  suffocation.  The  archers  of  the  guard  vainly 
endeavored  to  repress  the  jovial  tumult,  backing  their  Spanish 
chargers  on  the  mob,  or  beating  back  the  boldest  with  the 
staves  of  their  bows,  unstrung  for  the  hour  and  void  of  peril. 
Peers  of  France  in  their  proud  ermined  robes  and  caps  of 
maintenance  ;  knights  in  their  rich  habiliments  of  peace,  or 
yet  more  nobly  dight  in  panoply  of  steel,  pressed  through  the 
crowd  unheeded,  jostled  by  the  brawny  shoulders  of  clowns  or 
burghers,  and  over-impatient  to  join  the  sacred  pomp  to  think 
of  precedence  or  ceremony.  .  ;  < 

Within  the  holy  building,  its  long  aisles  thronged  with  noble 
forms,  and  the  rays  of  the  early  sunshine  streaming  in  a  thou 
sand  gorgeous  dyes  upon  the  assembled  multitudes  through  the 
richly-traceried  panes,  stood  Charles.  Clad  as  an  aspirant  for 
the  honors  of  chivalry,  in  the  pure  and  virgin  white,  he  bent 
the  knee  before  the  brave  D'Alen9on,  received  the  acolade, 
and  rose  a  belted  knight.  On  his  right  stood  the  proud  bishop 
of  Senlis  ;  the  same  who  had  braved  the  wrath  of  Charles  on 
his  first  interview,  but  afterward  had  redeemed  his  error 
nobly,  with  the  mortal  sword  before  the  walls  of  Orleans,  and 
on  the  field  of  Patai.  On  his  left,  sheathed,  as  was  her  wont, 
from  head  to  heel  in  armor,  Joan,  the  preserver.  Amidst  the 
thunder  of  the  distant  ordnance,  and  the  nearer  clamor  of 
the  trumpets  ;  amidst  the  shouts  of  pursuivant  and  herald —  it- 
"  Largesse  !  largesse  !  notre  trez  noble,  et  trez  puissant  roi !" 
—  and  the  acclamations  of  the  populace,  the  diadem  of  Clovis 
was  placed  upon  his  sunny  curls  !  Barons  and  vassals,  high 
and  powerful,  swore  on  the  crosses  of  their  heavy  swords, 
against  all  foes  ever  to  succor  and  maintain  his  cause,  so  help 
them  Heaven  and  their  fair  ladies  ;  and  damsels  waved  their 
kerchiefs,  and  their  sendal  veils,  with  beaming  smiles  of  exul 
tation  from  the  carved  galleries  aloft. 

Tears — tears  of  gratitude  and  happiness — gushed  torrent- 


216        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

like  from  the  eyes  of  the  victorious  maiden.  She  flung  her 
self  before  the  knees  of  the  young  monarch,  whom  she  alone 
had  seated  on  the  throne  of  his  high  ancestors ;  she  clasped 
his  ankles  with  her  mail-clad  arms,  and  watering  his  very  feet 
with  streams  of  heartfelt  joy — "My  task,"  she  cried,  "  my 
task  is  ended  !  —  my  race  is  run  !  —  my  victory  accomplished! 
For  this,  and  for  this  only  have  I  lived,  and  for  this  am  I  con 
tent  to  die  !  'For  this  do  I  thank  thee,  O  Lord,  that  thou  hast 
suffered  thy  servant  to  perform  her  duties  and  thy  bidding ! 
and  now  that  thy  behest  is  done,  bending  before  thine  imperial 
throne  the  knees  of  her  heart,  thy  servant  doth  implore  thy 
grace  for  this  thy  well-beloved  son,  and  that  in  peace  thou 
wilt  permit  her  to  depart,  an  humble  peasant-maiden  to  the  val 
ley  of  her  birth,  and  the  home  of  her  untroubled  innocence  !" 

"  Never,"  cried  the  monarch,  touched  beyond  the  power  of 
expression  by  this  revelation  of  deep  feeling — "  never,  my 
friend,  my  more  than  friend  —  my  hope  and  my  deliverance  ! 
As  thou  hast  won  for  me  this  throne,  so  teach  me  now  to 
grace  it !  As  thou  hast  set  upon  my  head  this  kingly  crown, 
so  guard  it  for  me  now  !  Oh !  never  speak  of  quitting  me, 
thou — thou  to  whom  I  owe  my  kingdom  and  my  crown,  and, 
more  than  all,  my  country  and  my  country's  freedom !" 

"  Maiden,  it  must  not  be,"  the  grave  Dunois  burst,  as  he 
spoke,  into  the  greatest  animation  ;  "  it  must  not  be !  The 
victory  is  but  half  achieved.  If  thou  shouldst  leave  us  now 
all  will  be  lost.  Stay,  virtuous  and  holy  one,  stay  and  accom 
plish  thou  what  thou  alone  canst  furnish !  Dunois  approves, 
yet  deprecates  thy  resolution !  In  the  shades  of  Vaucouleurs 
lies  humble  happiness,  but  honor  calls  thee  to  the  field  of 
strenuous  exertion !  Choose  between  happiness  and  honor, 
thou !" 

"  Thou,  too,"  she  answered,  "  noble  Dunois  ;  thou,  too  ? 
Then  to  my  fate  I  yield  me !  If  I  shall  buckle  blade  again, 


HER    LAST    PROPHECY.  217 

France  shall,  indeed,  be  free  ;  but  Joan  shall  never  see  that 
freedom.  Said  I  not  long  ago  that  Joan  of  Arc  should,  in  a 
few  brief  months,  be  Joan  of  Orleans,  and  thereafter  Joan  of 
Rheims  ?  Lo  !  she  who  said  it  then,  saith  now — hear  it, 
knights,  paladins,  and  princes  —  hear  the  last  prophecy  of 
Joan: — France  shall  be  free,  but  never  shall  these  eyes  be 
hold  its  freedom !  Dunois  hath  called  her  to  the  choice  — 
the  choice  'twixt  happiness  and  honor !  Lo !  it  is  made. 
Honor  through  life  —  ay,  and  to  death  itself,  still  bright,  un 
tarnished,  everlasting  honor !" 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    CAPTURE. 

York. — Damsel  of  France,  I  think  I  have  you  fast, 

Unchain  your  spirits  now  with  spelling  charms, 
And  try  if  they  can  gain  your  liberty. 

KING  HENRY  VI. 

DAYS,  weeks,  and  months,  elapsed.  The  king,  now  such  in 
truth,  with  his  victorious  army  and  triumphant  leaders,  swept 
onward  unresisted  ;  town  after  town  opened  its  gates  ;  district 
after  district  sent  out  its  crowds  to  hail  the  royal  liberator, 
chanting  the  hymn  of  victory,  the  proud  Te  Deum.  Twice, 
since  the  coronation,  had  the  rival  armies  met ;  once  at  Melun, 
and  once  again  before  the  walls  of  Dammartin^ — and  twice, 
had  the  wily  Bedford  declined  the  battle  ;  not,  however,  as  the 
friends  of  Charles,  intoxicated  with  success,  imagined  in  their 
vanity,  through  doubt  or  fear  ;  but  from  deep  craft,  and  dangerous 
policy.  Well  had  he  studied  human  nature,  in  its  lights  as  in 
its  shadows,  in  its  day  of  exultation  as  in  its  moments  of 

10 


218  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

despair  —  that  ablest  of  the  British  chieftains.  He  saw  that 
the  French  were  elated  to  the  skies,  buoyed  up  beyond  the 
present  reach  of  danger  or  despondency,  by  a  confidence  in 
their  divinely-chartered  leader  ;  and  farther  yet  than  this,  by 
a  proud  consciousness  of  their  own  strength  and  valor.  In 
such  a  state  of  things,  in  either  host,  it  needed  not  the  pene 
tration  of  a  Bedford  to  discover,  that  till  some  change  should 
come  about,  it  would  be  worse  than  madness  to  try  the  field. 
He  waited  therefore— but  he  waited  like  the  tiger,  when  he 
meditates  his  spring.  His  knowledge  of  mankind  assured  him 
that,  ere  long,  success  would  lead  to  carelessness,  incaution  to 
reverses,  and  reverses  to  the  downfall  of  that  high  spirit, 
which  had,  in  truth,  been  the  winner  of  all  the  victories  of 

Charles. 

Bedford  was  not  deceived.     Ingratitude,  the  bane  alike  of 
monarchs    and    republics  — "  ingratitude    more    strong    than 
traitors'  arms"— struck  the  first  blow— fate  did  the  rest.     On 
every  side  the  English  were  trenched  in  with  new  opponents, 
or  encumbered  with  false  friends,  irresolute  allies.     In  Nor 
mandy  the  constable   of  France  was  up  and  doing  ;  and  so 
celebrated  were  his  talents,  so  rapid  his  manoeuvres,  and  so 
formidable  his  increase  of  power,  that  the  regent  deemed  it 
wise  to  quit   at   once   the  walls  of  Paris,  against  which  the 
maiden  and  the  king  were  even  then  advancing,  that  he  might 
make  head,  while  there  was  yet  time,  against  this  fresh  assail 
ant.     Scarce  had  he  marched,   when   with   Xaintrailles  and 
Dunois,  and  all  his  best  and  bravest,  Charles  hurried  to  seize, 
as  he  expectej,  by  an  easy  and  almost  unresisted  charge,  his 
country's  capital. 

At  the  first,  too,  it  seemed  as  though  his  towering  hopes 
were  again  about  to  be  rewarded  with  success.  Beneath  a 
storm  of  shafts  and  bolts  from  bow  and  arbalast,  with  the  holy 
banner  of  the  maiden,  and  the  dark  green  oriflamme  displayed, 


ATTACK    ON    PARIS.  219 

the  chivalry  of  France  rushed  on  against  the  guarded  barriers, 
Joan  leading,  as  was  her  wont,  the  van.  Down  went  the 
outer  palisades,  beneath  the  ponderous  axes  ;  the  defenders 
had  scarce  time  to  breathe  a  prayer,  before  the  living  flood  of 
horse  rushed  over  them.  Down  went  the  barricade,  and  on, 
still  on,  they  charged.  The  barbacan  was  won,  despite  the 
shower  of  cloth-yard  arrows,  and  the  streams  of  boiling  oil  and 
blazing  pitch,  that  fell  from  embrasure,  crenelle,  and  battle 
ment.  A  single  moat  alone  lay  between  them  and  Paris. 
The  inner  walls,  weakly  defended,  and  devoid  of  ordnance, 
were  all  that  barred  out  the  monarch  from  his  heritage. 

"  What,  ho  !  our  squires,"  shouted  Joan,  curbing  her  charger, 
on  the  brink  of  the  fosse  ;  "  What,  ho  ! — bring  up  our  paves- 
ses  —  ladders  to  scale  the  rampart  —  hooks  to  force  down  the 
drawbridge  !  Lo  !  the  knave  bowmen  muster  on  the  walls  — 
our  cross-bows  to  the  front !  St.  Denys,  and  God  aid !" 

"  St.  Mary  !"  cried  Dunois,  who,  erect  in  his  stirrups,  was 
making  desperate  but  fruitless  efforts  to  sever  the  chains  of  the 
drawbridge  with  his  espaldron  — "  St.  Mary!  we  are  lost,  an' 
these  false  varlets  tarry !  What,  ho  !  bring  mantelets  and 
pavesses,  or  we  shall  perish,  like  mere  beasts  of  game,  be 
neath  this  archery  of  England  !" 

As  he  spoke,  shaft  after  shaft  rattled  against  his  Milan  coat, 
but  bounded  off  innocuous  and  blunted.  Not  so  his  comrades  ; 
for  the  fatal  aim  of  that  brave  yeomanry  brought  down  full 
many  a  gallant  knight,  full  many  a  blooded  charger ;  yet  ever 
and  anon  the  battle-cry  rose  fiercely  from  the  rear  —  "On! 
on !  St.  Denys,  and  God  aid  !"  While  pressing  forward,  to 
partake  the  sack  which  they  believed  to  be  in  actual  progress, 
the  squadrons  of  reserve  cut  off  alike  the  possibility  of  succor 
and  retreat !" 

"  Ha !"  shouted  Dunois,  once  again,  as  he  snatched  a  cross 
bow  from  the  hands  of  a  cowering  Genoese,  and  launched  its 


220  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

heavy  quarrel  against  the  archers.     "  Ha!  good  bow  !"     The 
sturdy  peasant  fell   headlong   from   the   rampart;    but   what 
availed  the  death  of  one.     Again  and  again,  the  steady  arm  of 
the  bastard  shot  certain  death  among  them,  while,  confident  in 
his  impenetrable  harness,  he  defied  their  slender  missiles  — 
but  it  was  useless.     A  louder  shout  from  the  battlements,  a 
closer  volley  —  and  with  a  faint  cry,  between  a  shriek  of  an 
guish  and  a  shout  of  triumph,  the  maiden  reeled  in  her  stirrups, 
and  fell  heavily  to  the  earth.     "  Back  —  back!"  was  now  the 
word.     "  Save  him  who  can !     Flight  is  our  only  chance  !" 
and  they  did  fly  in  hopeless  disarray  —  trampling  down,  ay, 
and  smiting  with  the  sword  those  of  their  countrymen,  who 
were   stretched  wounded  beneath  their  horses'  feet,  or  who, 
bolder  than  the  rest,  would  have  persuaded  or  compelled  them 
to  return.     Dunois  alone  escaped  the  base  contagion ;  he  had 
already  sprung  from  his   destrier  to  rescue   the   dismounted 
maiden,  when  Gaucourt  and  La  Hire  seized  him  by  either  arm, 
and  dragged  him  into  the  press,  from  which  no  efforts  of  his 
own  availed  to  extricate  him,  till  the  last  barricade  was  passed. 
Then,  then,  at  length,  they  paused ;  aware,  for  the  first  time, 
that  they  were  unpursued  ;  that  no  foe  had  sallied  ;  no  cause 
prevented  the  otherwise  inevitable  capture  of  the  metropolis, 
save  their  own  want  of  concert  and  unreasonable  panic. 

"  False  friends,  and  craven  soldiers  !"  cried  Dunois,  in  low 
and  choking  tones  ;  "  dearly,  right  dearly,  shall  ye  rue  this 
foul  desertion  !  The  Maid  of  Arc,  the  liberator  of  our  country, 
the  crowner  of  our  king,  the  prophet  of  our  God,  lies  wounded, 
if  not  already  made  a  captive,  before  the  gates  of  Paris  !  Ho  ! 
then  to  the  rescue.  Rescue  for  the  Maid  of  Arc  !  A  Dunois 
to  the  rescue !" 

But  no  kindred  chords  were  stricken  in  the  breasts  of  his 
companions  ;  Xaintrailles  was  silent ;  De  La  Hire  bit  his  lips, 
and  played  with  the  hilt  of  his  two-handed  sword ;  Gaucourt 


ROYAL    INGRATITUDE.  221 

shrugged  his  strong  shoulders,  and  muttered  Vords  inarticu 
late,  or  lost  within  the  hollow  of  his  helmet  ;  but  Charles  him 
self —  the  deepest  debtor  to  the  maiden  who  had  raised  him 
from  ignominy  and  defeat  to  triumph  and  a  crown  —  Charles 
himself  answered  coldly,  "  As  thou  wilt,  fair  cousin  ;  be  it  as 
thou  wilt,  but  methinks  she  is  already  past  reach  of  rescue, 
even  if  those  knave  archers  have  not  secured  their  prisoner, 
within  the  walls  of  Paris.  An  hour  hath  flown  since  that 
same  arrow  pierced  her  !" 

"  And  if  yon  English  archers  have  secured  her — what  are 

yon  English  archers  but  men?  —  and  men  whose  backs  we 

have  beheld  more  often  than  their  visages,  while  Joan  was 

here  to  lead  us?     And  if  she  be  within  the  walls  of  Paris  — 

what  are  those  walls  but  stone  and  mortar,  less   strong,  less 

lofty,   and  less    ably  manned,  than   scores   which  Joan   has 

mounted  ?     And  what  are  we,  that  we  should  see  the  champion 

of  our  country  perish,  without  one  struggle  to  preserve  her  ? 

My  liege,  my  liege,  this  is  cold  counsel,  not  to  say  coward ! 

If  Charles  owe  nothing  to  the  savior  of  his  diadem,  Dunois 

at  least  will  spare  him  the  reproach  of  Christendom  for  base 

ingratitude  !"     Thus  the  bold  bastard  spoke  ;  he  unclasped  the 

fastenings  of  his  casque,  and,  waving  it  aloft  in  his  right  hand, 

he  galloped  back  alone  on  his  chivalrous  and  Christian  errand. 

Shame  at  length  prevailed.     First  one,  and  then   another 

knight  turned  bridle,  and  spurred  steed,  to  follow  —  a  dozen 

left  the  monarch's  presence  —  a  score  —  a  hundred — but  gallop 

as   they  might,  they  could  not  overtake  black  Olivier  ;  they 

reached  the  shattered  barbacan  —  Dunois  had  vanished  beneath 

its  gloomy  portal,  flinging  his  casque  before  him  into  the  lines 

of  the  enemy.     His  followers  might  hear  it  clash  and  rattle  on 

the  pavement ;  but  ere  those  sounds  had  ceased,  they  caught 

the  din  of  arms,  and  over  all  the  shout  of  Dunois,  "  Orleans ! 

Orleans  to  the  rescue  !" 


222  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

Well  had  if  been  for  Joan,  that  when  she  fell,  her  foemen 
were  parted  from  her  by  full  moat  and  locked  portcullis.  A 
captain  of  the  guard  had  recognised  her  person ;  but  in  their 
eagerness  to  prevent  the  ingress  of  the  foe,  they  had  prevented 
their  own  power  of  sallying.  The  keys  were  in  charge  of  the 
governor;  the  governor  was  in  the  far  Bastile  —  a  watch  was 
set  upon  the  turrets  with  commands  to  shoot  her  to  the  death, 
should  she  attempt  to  escape  ;  a  messenger  was  despatched  in 
all  haste  to  the  citadel  to  seek  the  keys.  Once,  as  she  rallied 
from  the  effects  of  her  wound,  the  maiden  raised  her  head,  and 
on  the  instant  an  arrow  grazed  her  crest.  With  the  speed  of 
light  the  truth  flashed  on  her  mind,  and  she  lay  passive,  hoping, 
yet  hardly  daring  to  expect,  a  rescue.  An  hour  passed — an 
hour  that  seemed  longer,  to  the  faint  and  tortured  girl,  than  a 
whole  day  of  battle.  There  was  a  bustle  on  the  walls  ;  the 
blocks  of  the  drawbridge  creaked  and  groaned ;  the  chains 
clashed  heavily  —  it  fell!  The  bolts  of  the  heavy  gate  shot, 
back,  the  leaves  were  violently  driven  open ;  armed  footsteps 
clanked  along  the  timbers  of  the  bridge.  An  archer  on  the 
ballium  bent  his  yew  bow,  and  drew  the  silken  cord  back  to 
his  ear  ;  for  he  had  seen  a  movement  in  the  form,  which  had 
lain  motionless  so  long  that  he  had  deemed  it  lifeless.  She 
had  drawn  her  limbs,  which  had  lain  at  their  full  extent,  be 
neath  her,  as  though  in  readiness  for  a  spring ;  she  had 
clutched  her  dagger,  in  desperate  resolution  to  be  slain,  not 
taken.  The  yeoman's  aim  was  true  ;  the  point  of  the  arrow 
ranged  with  an  aperture  in  the  damsel's  corslet ;  death  had 
been  certain  had  he  loosed  the  string. 

"  Nay,  shoot  not,  Damian  ;  the  witch  is  well  nigh  sped  al 
ready  ;  and  our  comrades  close  on  her  haunches.  Lo,  even 
now  they  hold  her." 

The  archer  lowered  his  weapon  at  the  warden's  sign ;  and 
in  truth  relief  did  seem  so  hopeless,  rescue  so  far  beyond  the 


THE    RESCUE.  223 

bounds  of  possibility,  that  to  have  shot  might  well  have  been 
deemed  an  act  of  needless  mercy.  The  foremost  soldier  had 
already  stretched  out  his  hand  to  seize  her,  when  she  started 
to  her  feet,  and,  as  the  man,  thrown  off  his  guard  by  the  sud 
denness  of  the  movement,  faltered,  sheathed  her  poniard  in  his 
throat.  At  the  same  point  of  time  the  empty  helmet  of  Dunois 
rolled  clanging  through  the  archway;  and  the  bold  bastard, 
whose  approach  had  been  unheard  amid  the  tumult  of  the  sally, 
dashed  bareheaded  on  the  scene  of  action.  His  axe  was  bran 
dished  round  his  head,  then  hurled  with  the  directness  and  al 
most  with  the  force  of  a  thunderbolt ;  the  captain  of  the  guard 
was  dashed  lifeless  to  the  earth ;  and  ere  they  had  recovered 
from  their  surprise,  another,  and  another,  of  the  captors  bit  the 
dust  around  him.  "  In !  in  !"  shouted  a  loud  voice  from  the 
walls;  "in  Englishmen!  Room  for. the  archery!"  But  the 
confusion  was  too  great.  Their  momentary  panic  past,  the 
knights  of  France  redeemed  their  character ;  there  was  no 
check,  no  faltering ;  bravely  as  Dunois  had  charged,  they  fol 
lowed  him  ;  and  ere  the  sallying  party  had  sufficient  time,  by 
bugle-note  and  banner-cry,  to  rally  and  recross  the  bridge,  a 
score  of  the  pursuers  had  passed  the  barbacan,  and  filled  the 
esplanade. 

Down  thundered  the  portcullis,  and  uprose  the  bridge ; 
leaving  the  wretches  who  had  sallied  forth  in  haughty  tri 
umph,  to  a  miserable  fate.  And  miserable  was  the  melee,  that 
not  a  bowman  drew  his  string,  lest  he  should  slay  a  comrade. 
As  soon  as  he  had  been  relieved,  Dunois  had  borne  the  damsel, 
still  faint  and  stunned,  to  the  rear-guard. 

"  Ha !  is  it  thou,  Gaucourt  ?"  he  muttered.  "  Thou  wert 
but  backward  even  now.  Save  her,  however,  save  her.  As 
well  thou  as  any  other." 

He  spoke  in  scorn,  and  well  the  other  knew  it ;  yet  not  for 
that  dared  he  to  bandy  words  with  the  best  chevalier  of  France. 


224  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

With  a  calm  eye  he  saw  her  borne  to  a  place  of  safety,  and 
then,  with  a  slow  step,  turned  again  to  join  the  conflict.  But  it 
was  well  nigh  over  ;  a  few  wounded  and  weary  Britons  on 
foot,  and  unarmed,  save  their  short  swords  and  quarter-staves 
— frail  weapons  against  mace  and  two-handed  falchion  —  stag 
gered  to  and  fro,  blind  with  their  wounds,  yet  battling  it  to  the 
last  against  unnumbered  odds,  while  their  own  comrades  stood 
aloft,  unable  to  protect  or  rescue  them. 

"  Hold  off  your  hands,  fair  sirs  !"  the  bastard  shouted,  in  a 
voice  of  thunder  !  "  hold  off  your  hands  !  our  victory  is  won ' 
our  prize  is  gained  !  the  maiden  is  in  safety  !  Draw  off,  then, 
fairly  —  front  to  the  walls  —  retire  !" 

It  was  sufficient ;  rescue  or  no  rescue,  that  frail  remnant 
yielded  them  to  the  kind  mercies  of  the  conqueror ;  and  with 
a  single  and  well-ordered  movement  the  paladins  drew  off  their 
forces,  the  best  armed  and  best  mounted  facing  the  ramparts 
to  the  last,  though  the  arrow-shots  fell  fast  around  them,  till 
their  feebler  comrades  had  filed  from  out  the  barbacan.  Once 
through  the  archway,  the  whole  line  halted  in  a  serried  line 
of  lances,  and  awaited  the  commands  of  him  of  Orleans. 

"  Xaintrailles,"  he  cried,  "  lead  on  !  Gaucourt  hath  borne 
the  maiden  hence  ere  while.  Commend  me  to  the  king.  Lead 
on !  Adieu !" 

With  a  heavy  tramp  the  knights  passed  onward,  but  the 
count  de  Xaintrailles  paused.  "  And  whither,"  he  said ; 
"  whither,  thou  ?" 

"  My  casque,"  replied  Dunois.  "  I,  too  !"  answered  the 
count ;  "  bareheaded  thou  amid  the  shafts  of  those  rogue 
archers,  and  that  untended  ?  —  never,  by  the  bones  of  my 
father — never !" 

"  Tarry,  then,  thou,  and  hold  me,  Olivier,  till  I  go  fetch  it 
thence,"  cried  Dunois  ;  then,  without  waiting  a  reply,  he  flung 
the  rein  to  his  companion,  and  holding  his  triangular  buckler 


THE    CHIVALROUS    FOEMEN.  225 

aloft,  strode  steadily  forth  into  the  open  space,  whereon  no 
shelter  intervened  to  dazzle  the  eyes  of  the  archers,  or  to  pro 
tect  the  object  of  their  aim. 

As  first  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  barbacan,  a  dozen 
arrows  rattled  against  his  armor,  while  a  hundred  others 
aimed  at  the  portal  whizzed  through  it  harmlessly.  Still  he 
advanced,  unharmed  as  yet  and  fearless  :  again  the  bows 
were  bent,  again  shafts  were  notched  and  fitted  to  the  string. 

"  Hold,  for  your  lives,  ye  varlets  ;  harm  him  not,"  cried  a 
voice  of  authority.  "  Now,  by  my  faith,  it  is  Dunois !  My 
noble  friend,  what  wouldst  thou  ?" 

"  Ha !  Salisbury,  good  knight,  and  true,"  returned  the 
Frenchman.  "  I  knew  not  thou  wert  here.  Gramercy  for 
thy  caution,  else  had  it  fared  with  me  right  hardly.  There 
lies  my  casque,  beside  the  fosse  ;  I  flung  it  there  anon  to  win 
it  hence,  as  best  I  might,  by  strong  heart  and  keen  blade. 
Come  down,  I  prithee,  Salisbury,  that  we  may  prove  it  here 
which  is  the  better  knight ;  thou  hast  the  vantage  on  thine 
head  —  but  hold  thine  archery  aloof  and  I  will  stand  the  ven 
ture  !" 

"Who  looses  a  shaft,  dies  !"  shouted  the  baron,  as  he  per 
ceived  a  hostile  movement  among  his  soldiery,  at  the  bold 
vaunt ;  "  and  thou,  Dunois,  take  up  thy  casque,  and  get  thee 
hence  betimes,  else  will  these  knaves  riddle  thee,  despite  me. 
Begone,  fair  sir,  and  trust  me  we  shall  meet,  and  that  right 
early !" 

"  Thanks  for  thy  courtesy,  and  trust  me,  Salisbury  ;  times 
shall  go  hard  with  Orleans  if  he  requite  it  not !" 

He  donned  his  helmet,  waved  his  hand  to  his  renowned  an 
tagonist,  and  joined  his  comrade,  as  carelessly  as  though  he 
had  but  parted  from  him  in  the  joyous  chase,  and  returned  to 
his  side  bearing  the  sylvan  trophies  at  his  saddle-bow. 

It  was  dark  night  when  they  reached  the  host,  in  triumph  it 

10* 


226  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

is  true,  for  they  had  saved  the  savior  of  France  ;  but  in  the 
host  there  was  no  triumph,  no  confidence,  no  hope.  The  first 
blow  had  been  stricken  ;  the  wheel  of  fortune  had  turned  once 
round  upon  its  downward  revolution  ;  the  victors  had  been  van 
quished.  The  maid  herself,  though  her  chirurgeons  spoke 
but  lightly  of  the  wound,  was  in  a  sad,  despondent  mood,  far 
different  from  her  wonted  spirit. 

"  Now,"  she  said — "  now  would  I  willingly  go  hence  ;  my 
task  is  ended  ;  my  race  run  !" 

"  Wherefore,"  inquired  her  preserver  — "  wherefore  this 
dark  presentiment?  Is  aught  revealed  to  thee,  from  those 
who  sent  thee  on  thy  mission  ?  or  hast  thon  warning  of  thy 
death  in  anything  ?" 

"  Not  so  !"  she  answered  ;  "  I  knew  but  this  —  God  sent  me 
hither ;  sent  me  to  raise  the  siege  of  Orleans  ;  to  crown  my 
king  at  Rheims  —  no  more  !  Than  this  I  have  no  further  mis 
sion  :  no  further  duty !  Oh  !  may  it  please  the  king  to  spare 
his  servant !" 

From  that  day  forth  the  star  of  Charles  declined.  No  other 
attempt  was  made  on  the  metropolis  ;  no  stricken  field  was 
fought,  no  boroughs  taken  ;  the  ardor  of  the  troops  was  frittered 
away  in  trifling  skirmishes,  wherein  the  English  gained  as 
much  as  the  French  lost,  of  confidence.  Ere  long  the  tables 
were  turned  once  again  ;  the  chivalry  of  France  retired  to 
their  separate  demesnes  ;  their  vassals  withdrew  to  their  me- 
tairies  ;  the  armies  were  disbanded.  A  few  scattered  garrisons 
were  maintained  in  fortified  towns  and  castles,  while  the  troops 
of  Bedford  kept  the  field,  and  again  ventured  to  open  their 
trenches,  and  beleaguer  their  late  victorious  foernen.  Com- 
piegne,  closely  invested,  was  well  nigh  driven  to  surrender,  by 
the  united  force  of  England  and  of  Burgundy ;  with  a  selected 
company  Joan  beat  up  their  quarters  one  moonless  and  tem 
pestuous  night,  spiked  half  their  battering  cannon,  and,  without 


A    BELEAGUERED    CITY.  227 

the  loss  even  of  a  single  sergeant,  made  good  her  entrance  to 
the  town.  For  a  brief  space,  the  spirits  of  the  citizens  surged 
up  against  the  pressure  of  calamity  ;  the  valor  of  the  maiden 
relumed  for  awhile  their  falling  fortunes,  shining  out  itself 
more  brightly,  as  it  drew  nigher  to  the  hour  of  its  extinction. 
Day  after  day  some  new  annoyance  of  the  enemy  was  devised  ; 
at  one  time  a  convoy  was  cut  off;  at  another,  a  picquet  was 
utterly  destroyed  ;  now  a  mine  exploded  beneath  the  trenches  ; 
and  then,  while  the  attention  of  the  assailants  was  attracted  to 
one  quarter,  provisions,  men,  and  munitions,  were  introduced 
from  another.  The  summer  passed  away,  with  its  gay  flowers 
and  bright  hopes  —  autumn  wore  onward,  with  its  sere  foliage, 
its  brilliant  skies,  and  all  the  melancholy  thoughts  it  can  not 
fail  to  conjure  up  in  every  feeling  bosom  —  winter  drew  nigh, 
with  its  first  hoar-frosts,  and  its  nipping  showers  ;  the  trees 
were  leafless,  the  spirits  of  the  besieged  waxed  faint  and 
drooping  ;  their  garnered  stores  were  wasted,  their  wells  were 
dried,  their  wine-butts  had  run  low.  Famine  and  despair  had 
traced  their  painful  lines  on  every  countenance  ;  the  hopes  of 
all  were  at  the  lowest  ebb.  In  this  dark  crisis  the  maiden 
saw  the  need  of  instant  energy.  "  We  will  cut  our  way 
through  them,"  she  cried,  "  once  again !  With  our  good 
swords  and  gallant  steeds,  will  we  win  us  provender ;  cour 
age,  St.  Denys  and  God  aid !" 

The  wind  wailed  mournfully  as  she  set  forth,  before  the 
dawn  of  day,  on  this  her  last  excursion ;  the  atmosphere  was 
raw  and  gusty ;  a  thin,  drizzling  rain  had  saturated  every 
plume  and  banner,  till  they  drooped  upon  their  helms,  or  clung 
around  their  staves  in  dismal  guise  of  sorrow  ;  the  very  horses 
hung  their  heads,  and  neither  pawed  nor  pranced  at  the  call 
of  the  war-trumpet.  It  was  remembered,  too,  in  after-days 
that  the  consecrated  sword  of  Joan,  rusted  perchance  by  the 
dank  air  of  morning,  seemed  loath  to  leave  the  scabbard  ;  and 


228         THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

that  her  charger  swerved  as  in  terror,  though  there  was  naught 
in  sight,  from  the  city-gates,  and  could  be  forced  beyond  the 
threshold  only  by  the  utmost  of  the  rider's  strength  and  skill. 

"  Once  more  in  the  free  air,"  she  cried  exultingly ;  "  once 
more  on  a  fair  field,  with  France's  foes  before  us  !  Charge, 
then,  my  friends  ;  charge  cheerily ;  charge  all !  Better  to 
fall  beneath  the  buckler  bravely,  than  to  perish  piecemeal  in 
the  guarded  chamber !  The  standard  of  our  God  is  waving 
o'er  us  —  the  soil  of  our  birth  is  beneath  our  feet !  Victory  is 
in  our  hands  —  vengeance  and  victory!  Once  more  we  cry, 
"  God  aid  !  St.  Denys,  and  set  on  !" 

And  they  did  set  on  right  bravely :  straightway  they 
charged  against  the  lines,  passed  them,  and  all  was  theirs.  A 
joyous  gallop  through  the  open  fields  ;  a  scattering  of  convoys  ; 
a.  gathering  of  rich  booty ;  and  with  droves  of  oxen,  wains 
groaning  beneath  the  weight  of  forage,  they  turned  them  home 
ward  at  night-fall.  A  furious  onslaught  on  the  British  out 
posts,  which  lay  betwixt  the  river  and  the  town,  led  on  by 
Joan  in  person,  was  successful ;  the  troops  of  Burgundy,  al 
ready  on  the  alert,  rushed  to  the  rescue,  leaving  their  own 
trenches  vacant  or  feebly  guarded.  The  strife  was  short,  but 
furious  —  a  shrill  bugle-note  from  the  further  gates  of  the  be 
leaguered  city  gave  note  that  the  last  wain  had  entered.  On 
the  instant  the  maid  drew  off  her  skirmishers,  and  wheeling 
her  divided  forces  to  the  left  and  the  right,  rode  hastily  to 
ward  the  gate,  so  to  effect  her  entrance. 

Thus  far  the  night  had  favored  them  with  friendly  darkness  ; 
now,  when  their  peril  was  the  greatest,  the  moon  burst  out  in 
garish  brilliancy,  revealing  every  object  for  miles  around,  as 
clearly  as  it  would  have  showed  beneath  a  mid-day  sun.  The 
maiden's  stratagem  was  marked,  and,  as  she  wheeled  around 
the  walls,  a  heavy  force  of  archery  and  men-at-arms,  dis 
mounted  for  the  purpose,  stole  secretly  along  their  trenches, 


HER    CAPTURE.  229 

to  cut  off  her  retreat.  Such,  however,  was  the  rapidity  of  her 
manoeuvres,  that  she  had  reached  the  barrier  before  them  ;  her 
comrades  were  about  her — the  bridge  was  lowered — her  tri 
umph  was  achieved.  Soldier  after  soldier  filed  inward ;  yet 
still  she  sat  upon  her  docile  steed,  the  last  to  enter,  as  she  had 
been  the  first  to  gallop  forth.  All  had  passed  in  but  three, 
when  there  arose  a  shout  of,  "  Burgundy  —  a  Luxembourg  for 
Burgundy ;"  and  forth  from  the  trenches,  under  cover  of  a 
heavy  volley,  rushed  the  dismounted  troopers. 

"  Stand  to  your  arms,  true  friends  !"  cried  the  undaunted 
maiden  ;  "  courage,  and  all  is  well !" 

All  was  in  vain  ;  one  squire  turned  his  steed  to  join  her,  but 
an  arrow  pierced  his  vizor,  and  he  dropped  from  his  saddle  a 
dead  man.  The  hoof-tramps  of  the  others,  as  they  dashed 
across  the  bridge,  smote  heavily  on  her  heart — she  was  de 
serted  !  Yet,  there  was  yet  time.  She  whirled  her  weapon 
from  its  scabbard — she  smote  down  a  wretch  whose  hand  was 
on  her  bridle-rein  ;  she  dashed  her  spurs  into  the  fleet  Arab's 
side  ;  one  other  bound  had  placed  her  on  the  drawbridge  ;  it 
had  begun  to  rise  slowly ;  the  dark  planks  reared  their  barrier 
against  her.  "  Treason !"  she  called  aloud,  in  notes  of  super 
human  shrillness.  "  Lower  the  bridge  !  Ho!  treason!" 

As  she  spoke,  an  arrow  quivered  in  her  charger's  flank ; 
erect  he  bounded  from  the  earth  ten  feet  aloft ;  another  pierced 
his  brain,  and  he  plunged  headlong.  Still,  as  he  fell  beneath 
her,  she  kept  her  footing,  and  with  a  fearless  mien  faced  her 
assailants.  Even  yet  one  sally — one  charge  of  a  determined 
handful  had  preserved  her,  but  the  charge — the  sally — came 
not ;  the  bridge  swung  to  its  elevation,  and  was  there  secured. 

"Yield,  Joan,  I  take  thee  to  surrender  ;  I,  John  de  Ligny- 
Luxembourg ;"  and  with  the  words  a  stately  knight  sprang  for 
ward  to  receive  her  weapon  ;  and  with  a  vengeance  did  he 
receive  it.  The  burghers  from  the  ramparts,  whereon  they 


230        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

hurried  to  and  fro,  incapable,  from  very  terror,  of  exertion,  be 
held  her  as  she  met  him.  Her  eyes,  they  said,  flashed  fire 
through  the  bars  of  her  closed  vizor,  and  her  stature  showed 
loftier  than  its  wont.  Down  came  the  consecrated  blade  upon 
the  crest  of  Luxembourg  —  the  sparks,  which  sprang  up  from 
the  dinted  casque,  alone  had  proved  the  shrewdness  of  the 
blow  ;  but  the  strong  warrior  reeled  beneath  the  stroke,  like  a 
weak  infant.  Had  the  sword  done  its  duty,  the  stout  John  de 
Ligny  had  never  more  stirred  hand  or  foot ;  but,  like  all  else, 
the  sword  was  faithless.  It  shivered  to  the  grasp,  and  she 
stood  weaponless.  A  dark  cloud  passed  before  the  moon,  and 
the  faint-hearted  watchers  beheld  not  the  capture  of  the  maid 
en  ;  but  the  reiterated  shouts  of  thousands,  the  din  of  trump 
and  nakir,  the  shot  of  cavaliers,  and  the  deep  roar  of  ordnance, 
announced  to  the  inhabitants  of  many  a  league  that  the  cham 
pion  of  her  king  and  country  had  been  betrayed  by  faithless 
friends  to  unrelenting  foemen. 


IN    A    DUNGEON.  231 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE    DEATH    OF    LA    PUCELLE. 

Warwick. — And  hark  ye,  sirs;  because  she  is  a  maid, 
Spare  for  no  fagots,  let  there  be  enough; 
Place  barrels  of  pitch  upon  the  fatal  stake, 
That  so  her  torture  may  be  shortened. 

SHAKSPERE. 

THREE  months  had  elapsed,  since,  in  the  flower  of  youth 
and  beauty,  in  the  flush  of  conquest,  and  in  the  accomplish 
ment  of  all  her  own  —  of  all  her  country's  aspirations  —  the 
Maid  of  Arc  had  fallen,  through  the  envious  treason  of  the 
count  de  Flavy — he  who  had  shut  the  gates  and  raised  the 
bridges  of  Compiegne  against  her  —  into  the  hands  of  John  de 
Ligny- Luxembourg  —  since  he,  false  gentleman  and  recreant 
knight,  had  sold  the  heroine  of  France  —  sold  her,  despite  the 
prayers,  despite  the  tears  and  the  reproaches  of  his  high-minded 
lady  —  sold  her  for  base  and  sordid  lucre  to  her  unsparing  foemen. 
Three  months  had  elapsed  of  wearisome  confinement — not  in  a 
guarded  chamber — not  with  the  blessed  light  of  heaven  stream 
ing,  albeit,  through  grates  of  iron  into  her  prison-casements  — 
not  with  the  miserable  semblance  of  freedom  that  might  be  fan 
cied  to  exist  in  the  permission  to  pace  the  narrow  floor — not 
with  the  wonted  dungeon-fare  of  the  worst  malefactor — not  with 
the  consolations  of  religion  vouchsafed  even  to  the  dying  mur 
derer — not  even  with  the  wretched  boon  of  solitude!  No; 
in  a  dungeon  many  a  foot  beneath  the  surface  of  the  frozen 
earth,  with  naught  of  air  but  what  descended  through  a  deep- 
cut  funnel  —  with  naught  of  light  but  what  was  furnished  by  a 
pale  and  winking  lamp  —  loaded  with  a  weight  of  fetters  that 


232        THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

would  have  bowed  the  strongest  man-at-arms  to  child-liko 
helplessness  —  bound  with  a  massive  chain  about  her  waist, 
linking  her  to  the  rocky  floor — fed  on  the  bread  of  bitterness, 
her  thirst  slaked  with  the  waters  of  sorrow  —  her  feelings  out 
raged  by  the  continual  presence  of  a  brutal  soldier,  violating 
the  privacies,  alike  by  day  and  night,  of  her  sad  condition,  the 
noble  girl  had  languished  without  a  hope  of  rescue,  without 
even  a  dream  of  liberty  or  life  —  taunted  by  her  foes  and  per 
secuted —  deserted  by  her  friends  and  utterly  forgotten.  Yet, 
though  her  frame  was  shrunken  with  disease,  and  worn  with 
famine,  though  her  bright  eyes  were  dimmed  by  premature 
old  age,  her  stature  bent  to  half  its  former  height,  and  her 
whole  appearance  deprived  of  that  high  and  lustrous  beauty 
that  had  of  yore  been  so  peculiarly  her  own  ;  her  confidence 
in  Him,  whom  she  believed,  erroneously  perhaps,  but  not 
therefore  the  less  fervently,  to  have  sent  her  on  that  especial 
mission  which  she  had  so  gloriously  accomplished  —  her  con 
fidence  in  that  being  whose  decrees  are,  of  a  truth,  inscrutable 
— was  all  unshaken.  If  she  had  formerly  displayed  the  cour 
age  to  endure  —  if  she  had  proved  herself  the  equal  of  men  iu 
the  melee  of  active  valor,  she  now  showed  herself  to  be  endowed 
in  no  secondary  degree  with  the  calm  fortitude  of  her  sex,  the 
uncomplaining,  patient  resignation  to  inevitable  pain,  or  incon 
solable  affliction,  which  is  so  much  harder  to  put  on  than  the 
bold  front  which  rushes  forth  to  meet  the  coming  danger. 
Day  after  day  she  had  been  led  forth  from  her  cold  dungeon, 
to  undergo  examination,  to  hear  accusations  the  most  incon 
ceivably  absurd,  to  confute  arguments,  the  confutation  of  which 
aided  her  cause  in  nothing ;  for  when  did  prejudice,  or,  yet 
worse  than  prejudice  —  fanatic  bigotry — hear  the  voice  of 
reason,  and  hear  it  to  conviction.  Night  after  night  she  had 
been  led  back  to  the  chilly  atmosphere  of  that  dank  cell,  hope 
less  of  rescue  or  acquittal,  harassed  by  persecution,  feeble  of 


HER    TRIAL.  233 

frame,  and  sick  at  heart,  yet  high  and  firm  in  her  uncompro 
mising  spirit  as  when  she  first  rode  forth  with  consecrated  blade 
and  banner  to  raise  the  siege  of  Orleans.  From  the  very  com 
mencement  of  her  protracted  trial  she  had  felt  a  sure  fore 
knowledge  of  its  termination !  She  had  known  that,  in  the 
hearts  of  her  judges,  her  doom  was  written  down  already ; 
yet,  with  a  calm  confidence  that  would  have  well  become  a 
Socrates,  ay,  or  the  apostle  of  a  holier  creed,  she  had  striven 
to  prove  her  innocence  to  posterity,  at  least,  if  not  to  the  pas 
sing  day — to  eternity,  at  least,  if  not  to  time  !  When  reviled, 
she  answered  not — when  taunted,  her  replies  were  meek  but 
pertinent — when  harassed  by  the  simultaneous  questioning  of 
her  hard-hearted  judges,  eager  to  confuse  by  clamor  the  weak 
woman  whom  they  could  not  confound  by  sophistry,  she  was 
collected  as  the  sagest  jurist,  undisturbed  as  though  she  were 
pleading  another's  cause,  and  not  her  own.  The  base  Cau- 
chon,  the  bishop  of  Beauvais,  the  bigoted,  bribed,  fanatic,  to 
whom  had  been  committed  the  conduct  of  her  judicial  murder, 
strove  hard,  but  strove  in  vain,  to  wring  from  her  pale  lips 
some  evidence  of  unholy  dealings,  for  which  he  might  con 
demn  her  to  the  stake  —  some  word  of  petulance  which  he 
might  construe  into  treason. 

"  Swear,"  he  cried,  in  haughty  and  imperious  tones,  from  his 
crimson  chair  of  state  to  the  fair,  frail  girl,  who,  clad  in  sack 
cloth,  with  bare  feet  and  dishevelled  hair,  stood  at  his  footstool, 
upheld  by  the  supporting  might  of  conscious  innocence  — 
"  swear  to  speak  truth,  question  thee  as  we  may !" 

"  I  may  not  swear,  most  holy  bishop,"  she  replied,  and  her 
eye  flashed  for  a  moment,  and  her  lip  curled  as  she  spoke,  so 
that  men  deemed  it  irony  — "  I  may  not  swear,  most  righteous 
judge,  since  you  may  question  me  of  that,  which  to  reveal  be 
foul  perjury,  so  should  I,  if  I  swore,  stand  perjured  in  the 
same  by  speech  or  silence  !" 


234         THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

"  Swear,  Joan  of  Domremi  —  most  falsely  styled  of  Orleans 
and  of  Arc  —  swear  to  thy  judges  that  thou  wilt  seek  no  res 
cue—attempt  no  escape  !'' 

"Be  not  your  fetters  strong  enough  ?"  she  asked  in  answer ; 
and  she  half  raised  her  feeble  arm  to  show  the  weight  of  rusty 
steel  that  had  already  well-nigh  crippled  it.  "  Be  not  your  fetters 
strong  enough — your  rock-hewn  vaults,  where  never  comes 
the  first-created  gift  of  natural  light — your  iron  cages,  and 
your  steel-clad  warders  —  be  they  not  guards  enough,  that  ye 
would  bind  me  yet  more  straitly  ?  This  will  I  not  swear,  O 
thou  most  merciful,  so  shall  you  not  condemn  me  of  faith 
broken." 

"Then  thou  dost  look  to  rescue  —  dost  hope  for  liberty — 
wouldst  evade,  hadst  thou  the  power,  the  bonds  of  Holy 
Church  ?" 

"  To  whom  should  I  look  for  rescue,  save  to  Him  who  has 
abandoned  his  frail  servant  for  her  own  transgression." 

"  Ha !  she  confesses  !" 

"  Mark  well  the  words,  sir  scribe  !" 

"  Judgment,  lord  president ;  a  judgment !" 

"  No  need  for  further  question  !" 

"  She  has  avowed  it !" 

Such  were  the  disjointed  clamors  that  burst  at  once  in  fiend 
ish  exultation  from  the  lips  of  that  holy-seeming  conclave  ;  but 
ere  the  wily  bishop  could  express  his  sentiments,  the  maiden 
again  took  up  the  word. 

"  I  have  confessed,  great  sirs,  I  have  confessed  transgres 
sion.  And  make  not  ye  the  same  at  prime,  at  matin,  and  at 
vesper,  the  same  avowal  ?  Riddle  me,  then,  the  difference, 
ye  holy  men,  between  the  daily  penitence  ye  proffer,  for  the 
daily  sins  which  even  ye  confess,  and  this  the  free  confession 
of  a  prisoner — a  helpless,  friendless,  persecuted  prisoner! 
Tell  me,  lord  bishop,  what  am  I  that  I  should  suffer  judgment 


HER    SPEECH.  235 

to  the  uttermost,  for  the  same  avowal  that  thou  makest  daily, 
if  thou  dost  obey  the  bidding  of  Him  whose  cross  thou  hast 
uplifted !  But  ye  did  ask  me  if  I  hope  for  liberty  ;  if  I  would 
exchange  the  prison-house,  the  hall  of  condemnation,  and  the 
bread  of  tears,  for  the  free  air,  the  blessed  sunshine,  and  the 
humblest  peasant's  fare  !  Go,  ask  the  wild  herds  of  the  forest 
will  they  prefer  the  yoke  and  the  goad,  the  halter  and  the  stall, 
to  the  green-woods  and  liberal  pastures  in  which  their  Maker 
set  them !  Go,  ask  the  eagle  will  .he  endure  the  jesses  and 
the  hood  of  the  trained  goss-hawk,  will  he  choose  the  perch 
and  mew  before  the  boundless  azure ;  will  he  list  to  the  whis 
tle,  or  regard  the  lure  of  the  falconer  when  the  thunder  is  rol 
ling  beneath  him,  when  the  lightning,  which  he  alone  can  gaze 
upon  undazzled,  is  flashing  round  the  aerie  his  Creator  made 
him  to  inhabit.  If  these  shall  answer  yea,  then  will  I  do  your 
bidding,  and  swear  to  keep  my  prison,  though  the  chains 
should  be  stricken  from  my  limbs,  and  the  door  of  deliverance 
opened ;  though  the  fagot  were  kindled  to  consume  me  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  throne  of  your  monarch  were  tendered  on 
the  other  !  Then  will  I  swear,  sir  priest,  and  not  till  then !" 

Such  was  the  tone,  and  such  the  tenor  of  all  her  speeches  ; 
ever  submissive  to  the  forms,  to  the  ordinances,  and  to  the 
spirit  of  religion  ;  ever  professing  her  faith  in  Holy  Writ ;  her 
whole  and  sole  reliance  on  the  Virgin  and  her  blessed  Son  ; 
ever  denying  and  disproving  the  charge  of  witchery  or  demon- 
worship  ;  offering  to  confess  under  the  sacramental  seal ;  to 
confess  to  her  very  judges,  she  yet  suffered  them  to  know  at 
all  times,  to  perceive  by  every  glance  of  her  eye,  to  hear  in 
every  word  of  her  mouth,  that  it  was  the  religion  they  pro 
fessed,  and  not  the  men  who  professed  it,  to  which  her  defer 
ence  was  paid,  to  which  her  veneration  was  due. 

Still,  though  they  labored  to  the  utmost  to  force  her  into 
such  confession  as  might  be  a  pretext  for  her  condemnation, 


236         THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

the  court  could  -by  no  means  so  far  confuse  her  understanding, 
or  so  corrupt  the  judges,  as  to  effect  its  nefarious  purpose. 
With  a  clear  understanding  of  her  own  cause,  she  refused  at. 
once,  and  boldly,  to  answer  those  questions  on  nice  points  of 
doctrine  which  she  perceived  to  have  no  bearing  on  her  case. 
On  every  other  matter,  she  spoke  openly  and  with  the  confi 
dence  of  innocence,  maintaining  to  the  last,  however,  that 
"  spirits,  were  they  good  or  evil,  had  appeared  to  her ;"  but 
denying  that  she  had  ever  by  sign  or  periapt,  by  spell  or 
charm,  invoked  the  aid  of  supernatural  powers,  otherwise  than 
by  the  prayers  of  the  church  offered  in  Christian  purity  of 
purpose  to  the  most  holy  Virgin  and  her  everlasting  Son  It 
was  at  length  proposed  that  the  question  should  be  enforced 
by  the  means  of  torture  !  But  by  Cauchon  himself  the  prop 
osition  was  overruled  —  not  in  mercy,  however — not  in  char 
ity  toward  a  weak  and  suffering  woman,  but  in  the  deepest 
refinement  of  cruelty.  Confident,  as  he  then  was,  that  she 
would  be  condemned  to  the  fierce  ordeal  of  the  fagot  and  the 
stake,  he  spared  her  the  rack,  lest,  by  exhausting  her  powers 
of  endurance,  it  might  diminish  the  duration  of  her  mortal 
agonies.  Bitterly,  however,  was  that  corrupt  judge  and  false 
shepherd  disappointed  when  the  decisive  verdict  was  pro 
nounced —  "Perpetual  chains,  the  bread  of  sorrow,  and  the 
waters  of  misery !"  The  courts  ecclesiastic  had  no  weapon 
to  affect  her  life,  and  for  the  present  the  secular  arm  had  dis 
missed  her  beyond  the  reach  of  its  tyrannic  violence.  The 
sentence  was  heard  by  the  meek  prisoner  in  the  silence  of 
despair.  She  was  remanded  to  her  living  tomb.  She  passed 
through  the  gloomy  archway  ;  she  deemed  that  all  was  over ; 
that  she  should  perish  there — there,  in  that  dark  abyss,  un- 
cheered  by  the  fresh  air,  or  the  fair  daylight,  unpitied  by  her 
relentless  foemen,  unsuccored  by  her  faithless  friends  ;  and 
she  felt  that  death — any  death,  so  it  were  but  speedy — had 


HER    SENTENCE.  237 

been  preferable  to  the  endurance  of  that  protracted  torture 
which  life  had  now  become  to  her,  who  lately  fought  and 
feasted  at  the  right  hand  of  princes. 

Not  all  the  sufferings,  however,  of  the  wretched  girl — not 
all  the  mental  agonies  and  corporeal  pains,  that  she  must  bear 
iff  silence,  could  satisfy  the  fears  of  England,  or  the  policy  of 
England's  regent.  It  was  not  in  revenge,  much  less  in  hatred, 
that  the  wise  Bedford  urged  it  on  the  court  that  they  should 
destroy,  not  her  body  only,  but  her  fame.  He  well  knew  it 
was  enthusiasm  only  that  had  thus  far  supported  her  and  lib 
erated  France.  He  deemed  not,  for  a  moment,  that  she  was 
either  heavenly  messenger,  or  mortal  champion ;  but  he  felt 
that  France  believed  in  joy,  England  in  trembling !  He  felt 
that,  dead  or  living,  so  she  died  a  martyr,  Joan  would  be 
equally  victorious.  Her  death,  if  attributed  to  vengeance, 
would  but  stir  up  the  kindling  blood  of  Gaul  to  hotter  anger, 
would  but  beat  down  the  doggedness  of  Saxon  valor  with  re 
morse  and  superstitious  terror ! 

"  111  hast  thou  earned  thy  see,"  he  cried,  at  their  first  inter 
view,  "  false  bishop  !  As  well  she  were  a  horse,  and  in  the 
field,  as  living  thus  a  famous  prisoner!  She  must  die!  — 
die,  sir  priest,  not  as  a  criminal,  but  as  a  witch  and  heretic  ! 
Her  name  must  be  a  scoff  and  a  reproach  to  France  ;  her 
death  an  honor  to  her  slayers  ;  a  sacrifice  acceptable  to  Mother 
Church,  and  laudable  throughout  all  Christentie  !  See  it  be 
done,  sir  !  Nay,  interrupt  me  not,  nor  parley,  and  thou  may- 
est  not  accomplish  it ;  others  more  able,  or  perchance  more 
willing,  may  be  found,  and  that  right  speedily  ;  the  revenues 
of  Beauvais's  bishopric  might  serve  a  prince's  turn !  See  that 
thou  lose  them  not !"  And  he  swept  proudly  from  the  cham 
ber,  leaving  the  astounded  churchman  to  plot  new  schemes, 
to  weave  more  subtle  meshes  for  the  life  of  the  innocent.  Nor 
did  it  occupy  that  crafty  mind  long  time,  nor  did  it  need  deep 


238         THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  MAID  OF  ARC. 

counsel !  The  sentence  of  the  church  decreed  that  she  should 
never  more  don  arms,  or  masculine  attire  !  The  bishop's  eye 
flashed  as  it  lighted  on  that  article.  "  Ha !"  he  muttered. 
"  Here,  then,  we  have  her  on  the  hip  !  Anselm,  what,  ho ! 
Let  them  bid  Gaspard  hither,  the  warden  of  the  sorceress,  and 
let  us  be  alone  !" 

He  came,  and  with  closed  doors  they  sat  in  conclave  ;  the 
highest  officer,  save  one,  of  holy  church  ;  the  lowest  and  most 
truculent  official  of  state  policy  !  Ear  heard  not,  nor  eye  saw, 
the  secrets  of  that  meeting ;  but  on  the  morrow,  when  the  first 
glimpse  of  sickly  daylight  fell  through  the  tunnelled  window 
of  her  dungeon,  the  maiden's  female  garb  was  gone,  and  by 
the  pallet  bed  lay  morion  and  corslet,  cuishes,  and  greaves, 
and  sword— her  own  bright  azure  panoply!  At  the  first  mo 
ment,  ancient  recollection  filled  her  whole  soul  with  gladness ! 
Joy,  triumph,  exultation,  throbbed  in  her  burning  veins  ;  and 
the  tears  that  rained  down  full  and  frequent,  tarnishing  the 
polished  surface,  were  tears  of  gratitude  and  momentary  bliss. 
Then  came  the  cold  reaction,  the  soul-sickening  terror,  the 
prophetic  sense  of  danger,  the  certainty  of  treachery.  She 
donned  them  not,  she  rose  not  from  her  wretched  couch, 
though  her  limbs  were  cramped,  and  her  very  bones  were  sore 
with  lying  on  the  hard  and  knotted  pallet.  Noon  came,  and 
her  guards  entered ;  but  it  was  in  vain  that  she  besought 
them,  as  they  would  not  slaughter  a  poor  maiden,  slaughter 
her,  soul  and  body,  to  render  back  the  only  vestments  she 
might  wear  in  safety. 

"  'Tis  but  another  miracle,  fair  Joan  ;"  sneered  the  grim 
warden.  "  St.  Katharine,  of  Ferbois,  hath  returned  the  sword 
she  gave  thee  erst,  for  victory.  Tete  Dieu,  'tis  well  she  left 
thee  not  the  destrier,  to  boot  of  spurs,  and  espaldron,  else 
wouldst  thou  have  won  through  wall  of  stone  and  grate  of  iron! 
Don  them,  then,  holy  maiden  ;  don  the  saint's  gift,  and  fear 
not ;  she  will  preserve  thee  !" 


THE    SNARE.  239 

And,  with  a  hoarse  and  chuckling  laugh,  the  churl  laid 
down  the  scanty  meal  his  cruelty  vouchsafed  her,  and  de 
parted. 

Thus  three  days  passed  away ;  her  prayers  for  fitting  rai 
ment  were  unheeded  ;  or,  if  heeded,  scoffed  at.  Meantime 
tne  chill  air  of  the  dungeon  paralyzed  her  as  she  lay,  with 
scanty  covering,  cramped  limbs,  and  curdling  blood,  on  the 
straw  mattress  that  alone  was  interposed  between  her  delicate 
frame  and  the  damp,  rock-hewn  pavement.  On  the  third  day 
she  rose  ;  she  donned  the  fatal  armor,  all  save  the  helm  and 
falchion,  she  might  not  otherwise  enjoy  the  wretched  liberty 
of  moving  to  and  fro  across  the  dungeon  floor.  Scarce  had 
she  fastened  the  last  rivet  when  the  door  flew  open.  A  dozen 
men-at-arms  rushed  in,  and  dragged  her  to  the  chamber  of  the 
council.  The  board  was  spread  with  all  the  glittering  mock 
ery  of  judgment  —  the  brass-bound  volumes  of  the  law,  the 
crosier  of  the  church,  the  mace  of  state,  the  two-edged  blade 
of  justice,  and  the  pointless  sword  of  mercy.  The  judges 
were  in  session,  waiting  the  moment  when  necessity  should 
force  her  to  don  the  fatal  armor.  From  without  the  clang  of 
axe  and  hammer  might  be  heard  framing  the  pile  for  execu 
tion,  prepared  already  ere  the  sentence  was  pronounced  on 
that  doomed  victim,  condemned  before  her  trial. 

"  Lo !  there,  my  lords  !"  cried  Cauchon,  as  she  entered, 
dragged  like  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter.  "  Lo  !  there,  my  lords  ! 
What  need  of  further  trial  ?  Even  now  she  bears  the  inter 
dicted  arms,  obtained  as  they  must  have  been  by  sorcery ! 
Sentence,  my  lords  ;  a  judgment !" 

And  with  one  consent  they  cried  aloud,  corrupt  and  venal 
Frenchmen,  "  Judgment,  a  sentence  !" 

Then  rose  again  the  bishop,  and  the  lust  of  gain  twinkled 
in  his  deep  gray  eye,  and  his  lip  curled  with  an  ill-dissembled 
smile,  as  he  pronounced  the  final  judgment  of  the  church. 


240  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

"Joan  of  Domremi  —  sorceress,  apostate,  heretic!  Liar, 
idolater,  blasphemer  of  thy  God !  The  Church  hath  cast  thee 
from  her  bosom,  excommunicated  and  accurst !  Thou  art  de 
livered  to  the  arm  of  secular  justice.  And  may  the  temporal 
flames  which  shall,  this  hour,  consume  thy  mortal  body,  pre 
serve  thy  soul  from  fires  everlasting !  Her  doom  is  said ; 
hence  with  her,  to  the  fagot !" 

Steadfastly  she  gazed  on  the  face  of  the  speaker,  and  her 
eye  closed  not,  nor  did  her  lips  pale  as  she  heard  that  doom, 
the  most  appalling,  that  flesh  can  not  endure. 

"  Ye  have  conquered,"  she  said  slowly,  but  firmly ;  "  ye 
have  prevailed,  and  I  shall  perish.  But  think  not  that  ye 
harm  me  ;  for  ye  but  send  me  to  my  glory  !  And  believe  not, 
vain  that  ye  are,  and  senseless,  believe  not  that,  in  destroying 
me,  ye  can  subdue  my  country.  The  fires  that  shall  shrivel 
up  this  weak  and  worthless  carcase,  shall  but  illume  a  blaze 
of  vengeance  in  every  Frenchman's  heart  that  will  never 
waste,  nor  wink,  nor  weary,  till  France  again  be  free  !  This 
death  of  mine  shall  cost  thousands — hundreds  of  thousands  of 
the  best  lives  of  Britain  !  Living,  have  I  conquered  your  best 
warriors  heretofore  !  Dead,  will  I  vanquish  them  hereafter ! 
Dead,  will  I  drive  ye  out  of  Paris,  Normandy,  Guyenne. 
Dead,  will  I  save  my  king,  and  liberate  my  country !  Lead 
on,  assassins — lead  me  to  the  pile  !  the  flesh  is  weak  and 
fearful,  yet  it  trembles  not,  nor  falters  ;  so  does  the  spirit  pine 
for  liberty  and  bliss  !" 

Who  shall  describe  the  scene  that  followed  ;  or,  if  described, 
who  would  peruse  a  record  so  disgraceful  to  England,  to 
France,  to  human  nature  ?  England,  from  coward  policy,  con 
demned  to  ignominious  anguish  a  captive  foe  !  France,  baser 
and  more  cruel  yet,  abandoned  without  one  effort,  one  offer  of 
ransom,  one  stroke  for  rescue,  a  savior  and  a  friend !  and  hu 
man  nature  witnessed  the  fell  deed,  pitying,  perhaps,  in 


HER    DEATH.  241 

silence,  but  condemning  not,  much  less  opposing  the  decree  of 
murder,  sanctioned  as  it  was,  and  sanctified  by  the  assent  of 
holy  church. 

It  is  enough  !  she  perished — perished  as  she  had  lived,  un 
dauntedly  and  nobly.  Her  fame,  which  they  would  have  de 
stroyed,  lives  when  the  very  titles  of  her  judges  are  forgotten. 
The  place  of  her  torture  is  yet  branded  with  her  name.  Her 
dying  prophecy  has  been  fulfilled.  A  century  had  not  elapsed 
ere  Paris,  Normandy,  Guyenne,  were  free  from  England's 
yoke  ;  and  every  battle-field  of  France  hath  reeked,  from  that 
day  downward  to  red  Waterloo,  with  blood  of  England,  poured 
forth  like  water  on  the  valleys  of  her  hereditary  foe. 

The  maiden  perished,  and  the  terror-stricken  soldiery  who 
gazed  on  her  unmurmuring  agonies  beheld,  or  fancied  they  be 
held,  a  saintly  light,  paler  but  brighter  than  the  lurid  glare  of 
the  fagots,  circling  her  dark  locks  and  lovely  features  ;  they 
imagined  that  her  spirit  visible  to  mortal  eyes,  soared  upward, 
dove-like,  on  white  pinions,  into  the  viewless  heavens  ;  and 
they  shuddered,  when  they  found,  amid  the  cinders  of  the  pile, 
that  heart  which  had  defied  the  bravest,  unscathed  by  fire,  and 
ominous  to  them  of  fearful  retribution. 

11 


242  THE    FORTUNES     OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

ELEGY. 

This  admirable  heroine,  to  whom  the  more  generous  superstition  of  the  ancients 
would  have  erected  altars,  was,  oil  the  pretence  of  heresy  and  magic,  delivered  over 
alivo  to  the  flames,  and  expiated  by  that  dreadful  punishment,  for  the  signal  services 
which  she  had  rendered  to  her  prince  and  to  her  native  country.'1 — HUME,  chap.  xx. 

THE  moon  had  set  behind  the  tufted  hill, 
The  silent  stars  —  though  waning  —  glimmered  still, 
The  drowsy  woods  were  steeped  in  voiceless  rest, 
Dead  stillness  brooded  o'er  the  water's  breast, 
The  cloudless  firmament  was  spread  on  high 
Dark,  but  transparent,  like  the  liquid  eye 
Of  Andalusian  maid,  in  orange  grove, 
Dissolved  in  rapture  at  the  tale  of  love. 
Nor  voice  of  man,  nor  cry  of  passing  bird, 
Nor  ban-dog's  bay  from  cot  or  keep,  was  heard; 
The  wolves  were  hushed  in  tangled  coverts  deep, 
The  very  owls  had  wailed  themselves  to  sleep: 
But  fresher  yet  the  breeze  came  murmuring  by, 
And  colder  breathed  the  air,  as  morn  drew  nigh. 
The  paly  streaks,  that  told  of  coming  day, 
Dappled  the  horizon's  verge  with  feeble  ray; 
Yet  one,  who  paused  on  yonder  hillock's  brow, 
Above  the  blooming  plain  which  smiled  below, 
Might  linger  there,  nor  dream  a  city's  pride 
Was  slumbering  by  that  sluggish  river's  side; 
Though  close  beneath,  in  darkest  garb  arrayed, 
Blent  with  the  forest's  gloom,  the  mountain's  shade, 
A  gorgeous  town  lay  stretched;  with  streets  sublime, 
Turret,  and  dome,  and  spires  of  olden  time, 
Teeming  with  life  and  wealth  —  war's  stern  array, 
The  cares  of  commerce,  and  the  church's  sway! 
No  crash  of  wheels,  nor  hum  of  crowds  was  there, 
Nor  neigh  of  warlike  steeds,  nor  torch's  glare ; 


ELEGY.  243 

All  whelmed  alike  in  night's  oblivious  pall! 
The  drowsy  watchers  nodded  on  the  wall  — 
The  haughty  conqueror  in  his  trophied  bed  — 
The  slave  in  chains  —  the  serf  in  lowly  shed. 

But  one  was  there  —  whose  eyes  nor  night  could  close, 
!N"or*  opiate  draughts  could  lull  to  calm  repose. 
In  bloom  of  beauty,  in  youth's  earliest  flower, 
Condemned  to  brave  the  inevitable  hour, — 
To  quit  the  verdant  earth,  the  genial  sun, 
Ere  half  her  course  of  womanhood  was  run, — 
Unbent  by  years  —  without  one  silver  hair 
In  her  bright  tresses;   ignorant  of  care, 
Of  pain,  or  sorrow;  while  the  world  was  new, 
"While  life  was  beautiful,  and  friends  seemed  true, — 
Doomed  to  the  worst  extremity  of  pain, 
Which  flesh  can  writhe  beneath,  and  not  sustain — 
To  die  in  fire,  unhouselled  and  unshriven, 
Scorned  by  her  murderers,  and  shut  out  from  heaven — 
The  maid  of  Orleans.     She  whose  sacred  brand 
Had  wrought  deliverance  to  her  native  land  — 
Had  slaked  the  bowstring  in  the  archer's  blood, 
And  tamed  the  Island  Leopard's*  furious  mood, 
She  who  had  crowned  a  monarch  —  who  had  raised 
A  nation  from  the  dust  —  whose  name  was  praised 
In  court  and  cottage,  from  the  snowy  chain 
Of  Alpine  Jura,  to  the  western  main, — 
Her  country's  guardian  —  fettered  and  alone 
In  patient  helplessness  she  sat:    no  groan 
Passed  from  her  ashy  lips;    her  mind's  control 
O'erpowered  the  whirlwind  passion  of  her  soul: 
Calm  had  she  bent  the  knee,  and  humbly  prayed 
From  HIM,  who  gives  to  all  who  seek,  His  aid. 
Humbly  she  knelt,  and  self-absolved  she  rose ; 
Tried  in  success,  and  purified  by  woes, 

*  The  original  bearing  on  the  royal  shield  and  standard  of  England  were  not  three 
lions,  but  three  leopards  or  libbords,  as  they  are  called  in  the  old  chronicles,  and  were 
first  assumed  by  Edward  I. ;  but  were  changed,  in  process  of  time,  for  the  nobler  brute 
which  now  contends  with  the  unicorn. 


244  THE    FORTUNES     OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

She  felt  her  glowing  spirit  mount  the  skies 
To  meet  the  witness  of   "those  perfect  eyes" 
Which  endless  time  nor  boundless  space  can  blind, 
Secure  in  her  Redeemer,  and  resigned 
To  bear  all  torments,  in  that  narrow  road 
"Which  leads,  through  death,  to  glory's  pure  abode. 

She  turned  to  take  a  long,  a  last  farewell 
Of  the  dear  country  she  had  served  so  well  — 
Of  the  dark  skies  —  and  each  peculiar  star, 
"Whose  melancholy  glance  she  had  loved  afar 
In  her  own  vale,  while  France  as  yet  was  freel 
She  saw  the  Seine  rush  proudly  to  the  sea  — 
She  saw  the  foliage  in  the  breezes  wave  — 
The  flowery  turf,  that  might  not  yield  a  grave 
To  its  heroic  daughter:    but  her  mind 
Marked  not  the  hurrying  flood,  nor  heard  the  wind. 
Far!    far  away,  her  fancy's  eye  did  roam 
To  the  known  landscape,  and  the  cottage  home; 
The  willows  bending  o'er  the  argent  rill; 
The  rustic  shrine,  and  the  familiar  hill; 
The  lawns,  where  oft  her  pastured  flocks  would  stray; 
The  village-green,  where  still  on  festive  day 
She  led  with  artless  grace  the  rural  dance, 
All  hearts  subduing  with  untutored  glance; 
The  cheerful  hearth;  the  calm  though  humble  bed; 
The  dreamless  sleep  which  hovered  round  her  head; 
The  days  of  innocence;    the  nights  of  peace. 
Alas!    that  hours  like  these  should  ever  cease! 

Forth  rushed  the  burning  tears!   not  one  by  one, 
But  bursting  out  as  mountain  streamlets  run  — 
Her  mother's  face  benign,  her  father's  smile, 
Palpably  beaming  on  her  heart  the  while, 
Till,  in  that  gush  of  soul,  she  well  might  deem 
The  dead  restored  by  no  uncertain  dream. 
Yet  soon  that  passion  passed  —  a  sudden  start 
Called  back  the  crimson  current  from  her  heart, 
And  flushed  her  cheek  with  indignation's  tide. 


ELEGY.  245 

"Shall  I  — the  maid  of  Arc  — shall  I,"  she  cried, 
""Weep  like  a  village  damsel  for  some  toy 
Of  childish  love — I,  who  have  known  the  joy 
Of  triumph  and  high  glory  —  who  am  styled 
My  country's  savior  —  France's  noblest  child?" 

She  ceased! — for,  as  she  spake,  with  plaintive  swell 
Answering  her  words  of  pride,  a  ponderous  bell 
Rang  out  its  deadly  summons!      Well  she  knew 
The  sound  of  terror;   and  the  transient  hue 
Which  shamed  but  now  the  tints  of  breaking  morn, 
Had  vanished  from  her  brow;   yet  still  upborne 
By  calm  submission,  and  the  holy  zeal, 
Which  erst  had  nerved  her  arm  to  point  the  steel, 
She  stood  unblenching.      To  the  place  of  shame  — 
Branded*  for  ever  with  the  virgin's  name  — 
They  led  her  forth,  in  the  resistless  might 
Of  maiden  virtue  —  girt,  as  to  the  fight, 
In  panoply  of  mail  —  her  long  dark  hair 
Unbraided,  and  her  features  firm  as  fair. 
Stern  Bedford  gazed  upon  her  dauntless  mien 
With  half-repentant  wonder!      He  had  seen, 
Unmoved  and  fierce,  all  bursts  of  female  fear, 
Had  scorned  the  sigh,  and  revelled  in  the  tear; 
But  the  wild  courage  of  that  heavenly  face 
Half-moved  his  iron  heart  to  deeds  of  grace. 
The  free-born  archers  of  the  ocean  isle 
Reluctant  marched  along;   no  vengeful  smile 
Mantling  their  rugged  brows  —  that  band  had  rued 
The  victim's  valor  in  their  dearest  blood, 
Yet  not  for  that  would  they  consign  to  flame 
A  glorious  spirit,  and  a  woman's  frame! 

The  goal  was  gained  —  and  ye  do  still  forbear 
To  ^enk.  ve  Thunders!      Where,  0  Tempests,  where 
Are  your  tornadoes,  that  ye  do  not  burst 
Whelming  with  heavenly  streams  the  flame  accurst? 

The  Place  de  la  Pucelle,  at  Rouen,  where  this  infamous  tragedy  was  enacted. 


246  THE    FORTUNES    OF    THE    MAID    OF    ARC. 

They  bound  her  to  the  stake,  and  tore  away 

The  arms  she  bore  in  many  a  glorious  day: 

Yet  still  she  trembled  not!      They  touched  the  pyre 

And  the  red  torrent  of  devouring  fire  — 

Broad  as  a  chieftain's  banner  —  streamed  on  high, 

E'en  to  the  abhorrent  skies! — Yet  not  a  cry 

From  out  the  volumed  conflagration  broke; 

Nor  sound  was  heard,  save  when  the  eddying  smoke 

Roared  from  its  crackling  canopy!      A  sob 

Heaved  the  assembled  concourse  —  a  wild  throb 

Of  anguish  and  remorse! — A  secret  dread! 

Sank  on  the  bravest  heart,  and  stunned  the  firmest  head 

Fools?  did  they  deem  that  flames  could  check  thy  course, 
IMMORTAL  FREEDOM  —  or  that  human  force 
Could  cope  with  the  ETERNAL?      THAT  pure  blood 
Tainted  each  gale,  and  crimsoned  every  flood, 
Through  Gaul's  wide  confines,  till  her  sons  arose 
An  overwhelming  landstorm*  on  their  foes,- 
And  piled,  with  hands  unbound,  a  deathless  shrine, 
And  kindled  on  their  hearths  a  spark  divine, 
Unquenched  for  ages,  whose  immortal  ray 
Still  brightens  more  and  more  to  perfect  day. 

*  We  have  here  ventured  to  anglicise  the  German  word  landsturm,  the  literal  meaning 
of  which  we  have  given  above ;  the  application  of  the  word  is,  "  the  rising  in  mass  of 
the  whole  population  against  a  foreign  invader,"  and  the  image  appeared  to  us  so  highly 
poetical,  that,  considering  the  ancient  affinities  of  the  German  and  English  languages,  we 
had  no  hesitation  in  appropriating  the  word. 


HAMILTON   OF  BOTHWELHAUGH  ; 

<Dr,  fyt  Steam  nf  It,  3krttjnlnmm 


A  DARK  SCENE  IN  PARIS. 


PART   I. 

LET  the  great  Gods, 

That  keep  this  dreadful  pudder  o'er  our  heads, 
Find  out  their  enemies  now.     Tremble,  thou  wretch, 
That  hast  within  thee  undivulged  crimes, 
Unwhipped  of  justice  !     Hide  thee,  thou  bloody  hand  ; 
Thou  perjured,  and  thoii  simular  of  virtue, 
That  art  incestuous!     Caitiff,  to  pieces  shake, 
That  under  covert  and  convenient  seeming 
Has  practised  on  man's  life!  —  Close  pent-up  guilts, 
Rive  your  concealing  continents,  and  cry 
These  dreadful  summoners  grace!  —  I  am  a  man 
More  sinned  against  than  sinning. 

KING  LEAR,  Act  III.,  Scene  2. 

THE  shadows  of  evening  had  settled  down  upon  the  moor 
and  the  morass,  the  tangled  brakes  and  haunted  ravines  of  Et- 
trick,  with  more  than  the  wonted  gloom  of  a  December's  night  ; 
the  distant  moanings  of  the  heavy  gale  foretold  the  storm  that 
was  already  brewing  in  the  west,  arid  a  few  broad  flakes  of 


248  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

snow  were  felt,  rather  than  seen,  flitting  through  the  gloomy 
atmosphere.  There  needed  no  extraordinary  sagacity  to  fore 
see  the  sure  approach  of  one  of  those  tremendous  flurries,  as 
they  are  termed,  of  hurricane  and  hail,  which,  bewildering  to 
the  stranger  in  the  full  light  of  day,  become  perilous  and  ap 
palling  even  to  the  hardy  natives,  when  encountered  amid  the 
hills  in  the  hours  of  solitude  and  darkness. 

But  it  would  seem  that  neither  tempest  nor  obscurity  had 
power  to  check  the  solitary  rider,  who  journeyed  over  hill  and 
dale  with  such  unfaltering  resolution,  although  at  times  it  re 
quired  all  the  spirit  and  address  of  an  accomplished  cavalier  to 
force  his  jaded  horse  against  the  gusts  which*  now  raved  across 
the  unsheltered  moorland  with  almost  irresistible  violence. 
The  traveller  was  a  tall  and  powerful  man,  whose  firm  seat  and 
martial  bearing  denoted  the  practised  warrior,  even  more  than 
the  arms,  without  which,  in  those  days  of  wrong  and  rapine, 
no  one  could  hope  to  travel  in  security  through  districts  of  a 
far  less  doubtful  character  than  the  marches  of  the  Scottish 
border.  He  wore  an  open  headpiece,  or  bacinet  of  steel, 
which,  although  its  polish  had  been  dimmed  by  the  rust  of 
many  a  wintry  day,  yet  glittered  through  the  haze  ;  a  coat  of 
strong  buff  leather,  once  richly  laced  and  fringed,  though  now 
defaced  and  soiled,  from  many  a  hard-fought  field  —  a  heavy 
gorget  and  broad  plates  upon  the  shoulders,  with  huge  jack 
boots  extending  to  the  middle  of  the  thigh,  completed  his  de 
fensive  arms.  His  weapons,  however,  partook  strangely  of 
the  equipments  of  a  modern  trooper,  blended  with  that  of  the 
paladins  of  chivalry ;  for  in  holsters,  at  his  saddle-bow,  were 
suspended  a  pair  of  petronels,  as  they  then  were  called  —  of  a 
construction  infinitely  more  cumbrous,  and  scarce  less  bulky, 
than  the  carabine  of  Napoleon's  cuirassiers  —  while  one  of 
those  tremendous  espaldrons,  or  two-handed  swords,  which  had 
not  as  yet  become  entirely  obsolete — its  huge  crossed  hilt 


THE    SOLITARY    HORSEMAN.  249 

rising  far  above  the  shoulder  of  the  wearer— jarred  against 
spur  and  stirrup  with  its  ponderous  scabbard. 

The  noble  horse  which  bore  him,  carefully  as  it  had  been 
selected  for  extraordinary  points  of  blood  and  bone,  was  now 
so  utterly  overdone  with  toil,  that  he  reeled  and  tottered  before 
the  sweeping  blast,  as  though  each  freshening  of  the  gale  must 
bear  him  to  the  earth.  It  was  not,  however,  a  moment  in 
which  the  rider  could  afford  to  spare  his  faithful  servant ;  for 
not  only  would  it  have  been  inevitable  destruction  to  both  man 
and  beast,  to  have  passed  the  night  upon  those  dreary  wolds, 
but  the  place  and  the  hour  had  workers  of  evil  more  fearful 
than  the  pelting  shower,  in  the  fierce  mosstroopers  of  that  dark 
and  dangerous  district ;  the  spur,  therefore,  and  the  curb,  were 
the  only  answers  to  his  frequent  stumbles,  that  the  exigencies 
of  the  situation  would  allow.  A  long  and  ragged  hill,  chan 
nelled  by  many  a  petty  torrent,  with  here  and  there  a  stunted 
bush,  or  bare  crag,  looming  against  the  gray  horizon,  stretched 
its  wearisome  length  before  him  ;  but  so  bitterly  did  the  ar 
rowy  sleet  drive  into  his  face,  and  so  deeply  was  the  snow  al 
ready  drifted  in  every  hollow  pass  and  sheltered  gully,  that  it 
seemed  impossible  for  any  human  eye  to  discover  the  meanders 
of  that  rarely-travelled  path.  No  hesitation,  however,  was  to 
be  discovered  in  the  dauntless  eagerness  with  which  he  still 
pressed  onward,  as  though  every  inch  of  the  snow-clad  wilder 
ness  were  as  familiar  to  his  ken  as  the  hall  of  his  fathers.  An 
hour  of  toil  and  peril  had  elapsed  before  the  summit  was  gained, 
and  the  prospect,  though  still  wild,  became,  at  every  step,  less 
dreary  and  monotonous.  A  thick  growth  of  broom  and  brack 
ens,  intermingled  with  the  silver  birch,  and  the  still  verdant 
holly,  clothed  the  gradual  descent,  while,  at  no  wide  intervals, 
some  gigantic  beech  or  gnarled  and  twisted  oak  remained  to 
tell  where  once  had  flourished  the  mighty  Caledonian  forest. 
In  the  budding  time  of  spring  there  is  no  fairer  region  through- 

11* 


250  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

out  the  varied  scenery  of  Scotland,  than  the  far-famed  banks 
of  Esk ;  nor  when  autumn  has  cast  her  rich,  though  melan 
choly  tints  upon  the  woodland,  and  the  purple  bloom  of  the 
heather  has  succeeded  to  the  greenness  of  the  young  herbage, 
is  the  beauty  of  the  declining,  less  attractive  than  that  of  the 
mellowing,  year  ;  and  even  now,  although  the  cold  gale  sighed 
and  howled  among  the  creaking  branches,  there  was  something 
less  mournful  in  its  tones,  than  when  they  swept,  like  the  cry 
of  spirits,  unmingled  with  any  sound  of  earth  across  the  naked 
moor.  Ere  long  the  signs  of  man  were  apparent,  first  in  soli 
tary  pastures  girded  by  dry  stone  dikes,  and  framed,  as  it 
were,  in  a  dark  setting  of  coppice  —  then  in  continuous  crofts, 
with  their  lines  of  sheltering  sycamores,  and  here  and  there 
the  rude  peel-house  of  some  feudal  proprietor  overlooking  its 
rural  dependencies  from  battlement  and  bartizan.  The  track 
was  now  more  clearly  marked,  following  the  windings  of  a 
tributary  to  the  foaming  Esk ;  the  storm,  too,  had,  in  some  de 
gree,  abated,  and  the  moon  shone  forth  at  intervals,  from  be 
hind  the  scudding  wrack. 

The  rider,  whose  faculties  had  hitherto  been  occupied  en 
tirely  in  the  management  of  his  horse,  now  looked  abroad  with 
an  air  of  satisfaction,  as  one  who  has  reached,  at  length,  the 
haven  of  his  hopes  ;  his  eye  dwelt  serenely  on  those  inanimate 
objects,  which  become  so  dear  to  the  heart  when  connected 
with  recollections  of  the  home  which  they  environ  ;  and  even 
his  jaded  beast  gave  token,  by  erected  ear  and  livelier  motion, 
that  he  too  was  aware  that  his  toils  were  well  nigh  ended. 
Suddenly,  as  he  wheeled  abruptly  round  a  promontory  of  rock 
and  wood,  a  gleam  of  light,  as  from  a  distant  casement,  flashed 
for  an  instant  on  his  sight,  and  was  lost  again  to  view,  as  the 
ground  fell  precipitously  to  the  brink  of  the  stream.  It  seemed 
an  age  to  the  wayworn  soldier  ere  that  brief  ravine  was  passed, 
and  the  welcome  ray  again  shone  out  to  -3et  him.  For  an- 


SIGHT    OF    HOME.  251 

other  mile  that  beacon  star  was  hidden  a  hundred  times  by 
branch  or  brier,  and  a  hundred  times  returned  to  bless  his 
soul ;  till  at  length  revealed  by  the  glare  of  its  broad  windows, 
the  lordly  pile  of  Woodhouselee  stood  forth  in  bold  relief  from 
the  sheltering  foliage  of  its  secluded  dell.  "  Dame  Margaret 
holds  high  festival  to-night,"  muttered  the  baron,  beneath  his 
thick  mustache,  but  there  was  a  something  in  the  tone  which 
belied  the  sentiment  his  words  expressed,  as  if  the  speaker 
would  fain  have  imposed  upon  himself,  and  quelled  some  lurk 
ing  apprehension  by  the  half-affected  jest.  And,  in  truth,  the 
noble  Hamilton  had  rather  looked  for  the  sad  solitude  of  a 
well-night  widowed  bride,  than  for  the  mirth  and  revelry, 
which  became  each  instant  more  apparent,  not  in  the  illumina 
tion  only,  but  in  the  bursts  of  merriment  and  music  that  were 
audible  in  every  lull  of  the  western  gale. 

A  year  had  rolled  its  heavy  hours  along,  since  he  had  left 
his  lovely  Margaret,  a  newly-wedded  bride,  in  that  forsaken 
hall,  to  wield  his  blade  in  defence  of  Scotland's  ill-starred 
Mary.  A  fearful  gloom  had  settled  upon  the  champion's  brow, 
from  the  sad  moment  when  he  had  torn  himself  from  the  em 
brace  of  his  distracted  wife,  and  dashed  his  charger  to  its 
speed,  nor  dared  to  look  behind  till  the  first  ridge  of  hill  had 
concealed  the  temptations  of  his  happy  home.  Never,  for  a 
moment,  had  he  hoped  for  success  in  that  ill-omened  cause  ; 
never  had  he  deemed  that  Mary  would  live  again  to  fill  the 
throne  of  her  forefathers  ;  but  honor — the  honor  of  his  name, 
of  his  clan,  and  of  his  country — called  him  to  lead  his  hardy 
spears  to  join  the  muster  of  his  princely  chief ;  and,  with  a 
heavy  heart,  but  an  undaunted  spirit,  had  he  lent  his  voice  to 
swell  the  cry  of  "  God,  and  the  Queen,"  and  spurred  his 
charger  in  the  van  of  every  skirmish,  till  the  fatal  action  of 
Langside  destroyed  the  last  hopes  of  his  devoted  party,  and 
drove  the  hapless  Mary  to  seek  protection  from  the  honor  and 


252  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

compassion  of  her  lion-hearted  rival,  the  cruel  and  despotic 
Elizabeth.  Escaped  from  the  perils  of  the  field,  he  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  infuriated  lords,  and  doomed  to  seal  his 
allegiance  on  the  scaffold,  he  had  scarcely  ever  hoped  to  fold 
his  Margaret  to  his  heart,  or  bless  his  infant  son,  ere  he  should 
die.  Month  after  month  he  lay  in  hopeless  durance,  lament 
ing  his  own  approaching  dissolution  less  —  far  less  —  than  the 
effusion  of  noble  blood,  which  daily  glutted  the  vengeance  of 
his  conquerors.  Tidings,  he  had  received  none  ;  nor  was  it 
probable  that  she,  for  whom  alone  he  lived,  had  obtained  the 
least  assurance  of  her  husband's  situation;  —  hard  she  must 
know  his  lot,  and  precarious,  if  not  hopeless,  his  preservation. 
For  how,  when  Seyton,  and  Fleming,  and  Ogilvie,  and  Huntly, 
were  dispersed  and  slain  —  how  should  a  Hamilton  be  safe  ? 
—  Or  how  —  when  the  adherents  of  their  wretched  mistress 
were  prescribed  and  hunted  down  like  beasts  of  chase  —  should 
Bothwelhaugh  alone  be  unharmed  ?  When  a  pardon  from  the 
regent's  hand  was  tendered  to  the  noble  captive,  it  was  with 
feelings  more  nearly  allied  to  frenzy  than  to  joy,  that  he  had 
issued  from  the  gloom  of  his  dungeon,  into  the  free  air  of 
heaven.  His  limbs  were  again  free — but  to  his  mind  there 
was  no  freedom.  Care,  and  defeat,  and  failure,  had  shed  a 
constant  twilight  over  a  temperament  once  buoyant  and  elastic, 
beyond  the  boldest  spirits  of  his  age.  Fiery,  generous,  and 
enthusiastic,  he  had  loved  —  as  he  had  fought  —  almost  with 
fury.  And,  as  is  not  unfrequently  the  case,  the  affections  of 
the  rash  and  daring  lover  were  wound  up  in  the  well-being  of 
the  meekest,  fairest  flower  of  Scottish  land. 

Three  months  had  hardly  elapsed  between  the  accomplish 
ment  of  all  his  joys  in  the  possession  of  his  gentle  Margaret, 
and  the  wide  alarums  that  rang  through  every  glen  and  cleugh, 
when  Mary  burst  from  her  imprisonment  to  draw  a  deeper  ruin 
on  her  devoted  followers,  and  her  own  royal  head  ;  yet,  in 


LIGHTS    AND    SHADOWS.  253 

those  three  months,  the  very  nature  of  the  borderer  had  been 
changed.  He,  who  was  never  at  rest,  save  in  the  saddle  ; 
who  had  no  pleasures  but  in  the  foray  or  the  fight,  would  loiter 
now,  "  from  morn  to  dewy  eve,"  in  the  bower  of  his  bride. 
With  her  he  would  wander  whole  days  among  the  lovely 
scenery  of  Roslin  and  of  Hawthornden,  or  pore  upon  the 
chansons  and  virelain,  which  had  been  transplanted  from  the 
courtly  realms  of  France  to  the  bleak  hills  of  Scotland.  With 
her  he  forgot  the  turbulent  excitements  of  his  former  course  in 
the  mild  tranquillity  of  domestic  bliss.  With  her  he  had  re 
solved  to  live,  heedless  of  the  world's  sorrow,  and,  in  her 
arms,  he  had  hoped  to  die.  He  was  torn  from  her,  and,  from 
that  hour,  hope  was  dead  within  him.  He  was  condemned  to 
die,  but  recked  not  of  his  doom  !  He  was  set  free,  and  he  re 
joiced  not !  Even  at  the  instant  when  he  received  advices 
of  her  welfare,  he  felt  no  happiness.  A  heavy  shadow  hung 
over  him;  a  deep-engrossing  sense  of  future  evil  —  which, 
though  his  reason  might  despise  it,  yet  struck  his  spirits  down 
to  the  very  dust,  and  cowed  his  high  heart  with  unresisted 
terror.  When  he  had  mounted  his  best  horse,  a  pardoned,  un- 
attainted  noble,  it  was  rather  with  the  air  of  a  wretch  on  his 
way  to  the  place  of  doom,  than  of  a  youthful  bridegroom 
speeding,  in  all  the  eagerness  of  joyful  hope,  to  the  chosen 
of  his  bosom. 

Gradually,  however,  as  he  neared  the  house  of  his  fathers, 
and  learned  that  the  devastating  tide  of  war  had  swept  past,  at 
a  distance,  leaving  these  rugged  vales  in  unassailed  security  ; 
as  he  ascertained  from  the  wandering  hunter,  or  the  lonely 
shepherd  of  the  hills,  that  his  adored  Margaret  still  sat  un 
harmed  in  her  solitary  bower,  without  a  cause  of  sorrow,  save 
the  absence  of  her  lord,  he  had  succeeded  in  casting  grief  be 
hind  him.  The  free  air  of  his  native  hills  had  dispelled  the 
gloom,  which,  for  many  a  weary  month,  had  weighed  so  heav- 


254  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

ily  upon  his  soul ;  and,  at  times,  a  touch  of  that  reckless 
gayety  of  mood,  which  had  distinguished  him  of  yore  at  the 
feast  and  in  the  fray,  broke  forth  in  snatches  of  some  lively 
song,  startling  the  moorland  echoes  with  their  unaccustomed 
glee.  Rapidly,  however,  as  his  mind  had  regained  its  native 
elasticity,  and  loftily  as  his  hopes  had  soared  in  their  recover 
ed  confidence,  yet,  with  tenfold  rapidly,  did  those  vain  hopes 
sink,  when  his  eyes  beheld  that  strange  illumination,  and  his 
unwilling  ears  admitted  those  ill-timed  sounds  of  glee.  It  was 
not,  however,  with  the  poignant  acuteness  of  an  unexpected 
blow,  but  rather  with  the  stern  and  gloomy  bitterness  of  a 
long-foreseen  calamity,  that  this  new  certainty  of  evil  smote 
upon  his  senses.  Evil  it  must  be  !  For  how  should  she,  on 
whose  affections  he  had  staked  his  all,  give  loose  to  merri 
ment,  while  her  wedded  lord  was  languishing  in  a  dark  and 
silent  dungeon?  How  should  she  find  pleasure  in  the  dance, 
or  lend  her  soul  to  the  voluptuous  strains  of  the  minstrel,  un 
less  another  tale  of  fickleness  and  falsehood  were  to  be  added 
to  the  gloomy  annals  of  human  sin  and  misery  ?  An  over 
whelming  rush  of  dark  and  terrible  thoughts  burst  instantane 
ously  upon  his  mind.  Love — jealousy — revenge,  burning 
almost  to  frenzy,  were  mingled  with  despondency,  and  doubt, 
and  terror  !  Yet,  to  the  honor  of  his  noble  nature  be  it  spoken, 
the  struggle  lasted  but  for  one  instant !  The  untainted  purity, 
the  sweet  humility,  the  hallowed  devotion  of  his  bride  rose  on 
his  softened  memory,  and  swept  each  dark  suspicion  from  his 
soul,  almost  before  it  had  found  birth  —  but,  with  repentance 
for  his  momentary  distrust  of  her,  whom  he  now  felt  to  be  far, 
far  above  the  slightest  taint  of  calumny  or  doubt,  his  fears  in 
creased  to  such  a  point,  that  the  bold  warrior  trembled  in  his 
saddle  like  a  weakly  child,  and  his  steel  harness  clattered  on 
his  limbs  convulsed  as  by  an  ague.  Then,  as  his  dread  became 
more  definite,  he  gored  his  weary  charger  with  the  spur, 


THE    PERILOUS    CAUSEWAY,  255 

whirled  his  tremendous  weapon  from  scabbard,  and,  with  his 
battle-cry,  a  "  Hamilton  to  the  rescue  !"  quivering  on  his  lips, 
ere  a  second  had  elapsed,  he  was  driving  along  the  broken 
road  at  a  pace,  which,  from  the  previous  exhaustion  of  both 
horse  and  rider,  would  have  been  deemed  beyond  the  bounds 
of  nature.  Hill  and  hollow,  rock  and  wood,  just  glanced,  like 
meteors,  on  his  view,  and  were  swallowed  up  in  distance,  as 
he  rushed  along.  A  short  half  mile  was  yet  between  him  and 
the  solution  of  his  hopes  or  fears.  The  path,  which  had 
hitherto  swept  along  the  northern  margin  of  the  Eske,  now 
turned  abruptly  to  the  right,  and,  diving  precipitously  into  the 
dell,  crossed  the  channel  of  the  torrent  by  a  ford,  so  dangerous 
at  periods  from  the  rapid  floods,  which  come  down  from  the 
moorlands  after  every  summer's  shower,  and  every  winter's 
storm,  that  a  high  and  narrow  bridge  of  planks  had  been 
thrown  across  the  chasm  for  the  benefit  of  the  timid  or  infirm. 
No  parapet  or  rail  defended  the  sides  of  this  perilous  cause 
way,  though,  scarcely  a  yard  in  breadth,  it  was  reared  high 
above  the  slaty  bed,  supported  partially  by  piers  of  rugged 
masonry,  and  partially  by  blocks  of  the  living  rock,  through 
which  the  everlasting  stream  had  cleft  itself  a  passage.  At  a 
single  glance  the  borderer  perceived,  from  the  brawling  fury 
with  which  the  turbid  spray  was  hurled  against  the  creaking 
arches,  that  death  must  be  the  inevitable  lot  of  any  who  should 
brave  the  swollen  ford.  Without  a  pause,  however,  he  drove 
his  steed,  by  dint  of  spur  and  tightened  rein,  across  the  clat 
tering  planks.  The  hand  of  Providence  was  there  !  For,  had 
the  charger's  foot  diverged  one  inch's  breadth  from  its  direc 
tion,  both  horse  and  man  had  perished  ;  the  smallest  swerve, 
the  slightest  stumble,  must  have  hurled  them  headlong  to  de 
struction.  Once  only  did  his  hoofs  clash  on  the  echoing  tim 
ber,  a  second  stride,  and  the  firm  rock  rang  beneath  him. 
But  scarcely  had  he  cleared  the  bridge,  before  the  horse  swung 


256  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

round,  in  mortal  terror,  as  it  were,  of  some  aerial  shape  beheld 
by  him  alone,  with  a  violence  that  might  well  have  cast  a  less- 
experienced  rider  from  his  seat,  ere  he  had  discovered  the 
cause  of  his  disaster.  As  it  was,  although  with  every  advan 
tage  of  support  from  the  steady  hand  and  practised  skill  of  the 
cavalier,  the  over-driven  beast  staggered  a  pace  or  two,  then, 
with  a  heavy,  though  fruitless  effort  at  recovery,  fell,  rolled 
over  and  over,  never  to  rise,  and,  ere  its  master  had  regained 
his  footing,  had  stretched  out  all  its  limbs  in  the  rigidity  of 
death. 

Shaken  as  he  was  by  the  sudden  shock,  Hamilton  had 
sprung  up,  sword  in  hand,  even  with  the  speed  of  light ;  the 
idea  of  an  ambush  flashed  upon  his  senses  as  he  fell,  and  he 
arose  prepared  for  deadly  strife.  But  the  brandished  blade 
sank  powerless,  and  the  half-uttered  shout  was  smothered  in  a 
prayer,  as  he  beheld  a  tall  and  shadowy  figure,  white  as  the 
drifted  snow,  its  long,  loose  tresses  floating  on  the  wind,  and 
its  pale  lips  uttering  strange  sounds  of  thrilling  laughter. 
Erect  upon  the  last  abutment  of  the  bridge,  the  form,  whatever 
it  might  be,  though  it  had  escaped  the  notice  of  the  rider,  oc 
cupied  by  the  urgency  of  his  position,  had  startled  the  horse 
almost  into  the  jaws  of  death,  and,  for  a  moment,  as  the  sol 
dier  gazed  upon  the  apparition,  the  life-blood  curdled  at  his 
heart.  Fearlessly,  joyously,  would  he  have  plunged  into  the 
mortal  conflict;  but  thus  arrayed  against  the  powers  of  another 
world,  confirmed  as  such  visions  were  in  that  dark  age,  even 
by  the  doctrines  of  his  church,  what  wonder  that  the  boldest 
spirit  should  shrink  back  from  the  unequal  contest  ?  Not 
long,  however,  could  fear,  even  of  a  supernatural  caste,  appal 
a  mind  so  resolute  at  all  times,  and  now  so  wrought  to  desper 
ation,  as  that  of  Hamilton.  "  Maria  sanctissima,*' he  muttered 
— "  ora  pro  nobis  !  Our  border  tales  are  true  ;  it  is  the  spirit 
of  the  stormy  water !  But  there  is  that  within  my  soul  to- 


THE    APPARITION.  257 

night  that  I  must  on,  though  the  arch-fiend  himself  should 
strive  to  bar  my  passage."  Grasping  his  ponderous  weapon, 
he  strode  forward,  as  if  to  meet  an  earthly  foernan,  calmly 
resolved  to  prove  his  might  against  the  terrors  of  a  world  in 
visible.  "  In  the  name  of  him,"  he  whispered  through  his 
hard-clenched  teeth,  "  of  whose  most  holy  death  thou  hast  no 
portion,  hence  to  thine-appointed  place  !"  The  shriek,  which 
burst  from  the  ghastly  form  to  whom  he  spake,  might  well 
have  raised  the  dead,  if  aught  of  earth  had  power  to  rend 
their  cerements,  so  high,  so  spiritually-piercing  were  its  tones. 
It  ended,  and  a  burst  of  horrid  laughter  rang  upon  the  night- 
air,  and  then  the  piteous  wailing  of  unspeakable  despair.  The 
moon,  which  had  again  been  hidden  for  a  while,  now  streamed 
forth  gloriously  from  .-a  chasm  in  the  rolling  vapors,  so  sud 
denly  and  so  splendidly  did  the  bright  rays  illuminate  that 
pallid  shape,  that,  for  an  instant,  he  believed  the  light  an  ema 
nation  from  the  form  itself;  but,  in  that  instant,  he  recognised 
the  delicate  and  graceful  limbs,  the  features  lovely,  despite 
their  livid  paleness,  of  his  own  Margaret.  Not  a  shade  of 
color  varied  the  dead  whiteness  of  her  cheek  or  lip  —  not  a 
spark  of  intelligence  gleamed  from  those  eyes,  once  the 
sources  of  unutterable  love  and  lustre.  The  superb  figure 
scarcely  veiled  by  one  thin  robe  of  linen  —  the  bosom,  pulse 
less  as  it  seemed,  to  which  was  clasped  a  naked,  new-born 
babe  —  even  the  tones  of  her  voice,  altered  as  they  were  and 
terrible,  were  all  his  Margaret's.  Not  a  doubt  existed  in  his 
mind  but  that  the  spirit  of  his  wife  stood  thus  revealed  before 
him  ;  and,  as  the  conviction  became  strong,  fear  departed. 
Grief,  deep  grief,  was  visible  upon  his  brow  ;  but  grief  ex 
alted,  as  it  were,  and  purified  by  communion  with  the  sainted 
and  imperishable  part  of  one,  who,  even  while  loaded  with  the 
imperfections  of  the  mortal  clay,  had  ever  seemed  a  being 
allied  to  heaven,  more  nearly  than  to  earth. 


258  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

Casting  his  sword  far  from  him,  he  sank  silently  upon  his 
knees  beside  the  stiffening  carcase  of  his  charger ;  with  arms 
outstretched,  extended  neck,  and  parted  lips,  he  paused  in 
breathless  expectation.  Folding  the  infant  closer  to  her  cold 
embrace,  as  though  no  mortal  eye  beheld,  or  ear  attended,  she 
warbled,  in  a  voice  of  surpassing  sweetness,  one  of  the  most 
pathetic  ballads  of  her  tuneful  country  : — 

X.  •*  *  # 

*  *  * 

"Balow,*  she  sang,  my  waesome  babe, 

Lye  still,  for  luve  o'  me! 
Though  mirkf  the  night,  and  keen  the  blast, 
My  breast  sail  cherish  thee. 

"Balow,  she  sang,  though  friends  are  fause, 

And  foes  do  harry  me, 
Lye  still,  my  babe  — my  winsome  babe  — 
Or  I  sail  surely  dee. 

"The  castle-hearth  is  cauld,  my  child, 

Toomf  is  the  castle  ha'  — 
Our  hame  is  in  the  muirland  wild, 
Our  bed  i'  the  drifted  snaw. 

"Thy  father's  wandering  far  awa, 

Thy  mither's  like  to  dee, 
Thy  gudesire's  in  the  auld  kirk  garth, 
And  there's  nane  to  succor  thee. 

"And  never,  never  mair,  my  babe, 

Shall  we  twa  link  thegither, 
When  leaves  are  green,  and  lavrocks§  sing, 
I'  the  blithesome  simmer  weather. 

"When  leaves  are  green,  and  lavrocks  sing, 

On  ilka  broomy  knowe,|| 
Then  thou  salt  sport,  my  darling  doo,T 
But  I'll  be  cauld,  and  low. 

"But  yet — she  sang — balow  my  babe, 

Lye  still  for  luve  o'  me, 
Lye  still,  my  babe,  my  winsome  babe, 

Or  I  sail  surely  dee." 

*  Balow  lullaby.         t  Mirk,  dark.         J  Toom,  empty.          §  Lavrocb,  skylark. 
||  Knowne,  knoll,  hillock.  1F  Doo,  dove. 


THE    MANIAC    WIFE.  259 

As  her  plaintive  song  ended,  she  flung  an  arm  aloft  with  a 
wild  expression  of  terror,  "  Help  !  help  !"  she  screamed  ;  "  to 
arms!  the  foe!  save  —  save  me,  Hamilton! — my  lord,  my 
life,  preserve  me  !  O  God !  O  God,  is  there  no  help  from 
earth,  or  heaven  ?  Unhand  me,  villains  !  dearly  shall  ye  rue 
this  night  when  Hamilton  returns.  Give  me  my  child — my 
blessed  boy.  Oh !  mercy,  mercy !" — Like  a  thunderbolt  the 
truth  smote  on  his  soul.  It  was  his  wife — his  living  wife  — 
driven  forth  into  the  snowy  fields  to  perish  with  her  babe.  At 
a  single  bound  he  stood  beside  her  ;  madly  he  cast  his  arms 
around  her  icy  form — "  Margaret,"  he  sobbed  upon  her  bosom; 
"my  own — own  Margaret,  thy  Hamilton  is  here."  "  Villain," 
she  shrieked  ;  "  thou  Hamilton  !  avaunt !  I  know  thee  not ! 
would  —  would  to  God,  my  princely  Hamilton  were  here  ;  but 
his  glorious  form  I  never  shall  behold  again  !  But,  see  !"  she 
cried,  "  if  thou  hast  yet  a  spark  of  mercy  in  thine  iron  heart, 
receive  and  bear  mine  infant  to  his  father's  arms  ;  behold  ;" 
she  moved  the  little  body  from  her  shivering  breast,  gazed 
wistfully  upon  its  shrunken  features,  and  then,  as  the  fatal 
truth  became  apparent,  "  Cold  —  cold  !  oh  !  merciful  Heaven  !" 
she  faltered  forth  in  calmer  tones,  and  sank  from  her  husband's 
grasp  upon  the  chilly  soil.  It  was  in  vain  that  her  half-fren 
zied  lord  stripped  his  own  frame  of  garment  after  garment  to 
fence  her  from  the  piercing  storm ;  it  was  in  vain  that  he 
chafed  her  frozen  limbs,  and  strove  to  wake  her  into  life  by 
his  warm  breath ;  long  did  she  lie  sobbing  and  trembling  as 
though  her  heart  would  leap  from  its  place,  but  not  a  symptom 
of  returning  animation  blessed  his  hopes ;  gradually  she  was 
sinking  into  that  sleep  which  knows  no  waking ;  pain  and 
grief  were  nearly  over,  and  it  seemed  as  if  she  were  about  to 
pass,  without  another  struggle,  into  the  presence  of  her  Crea 
tor.  Suddenly  she  rallied  ;  her  long-fringed  lashes  rose,  and, 
as  she  turned  her  eyes  upon  her  husband's  face,  he  saw,  with 


260  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

momentary  rapture,  that  the  wild  glare  of  insanity  had  faded 
from  those  liquid  orbs,  and  that  she  knew  him.  "  Was  it  a 
dream  ?"  she  said  ;  "  0  Hamilton,  beloved  husband,  it  is  in 
deed  thus  that  we  have  met ;  met  only  to  be  parted  for  ever ! 
My  babe,  my  blessed  babe  has  gone  before  me.  I  saw  his 
little  limbs  convulsed  with  the  last  agony  of  cold,  I  felt  the 
last  flutter  of  his  balmy  breath  upon  my  lips,  and  then  my 
reason  fled  !  But  blessed  be  the  Virgin,  I  have  seen,  and 
known  my  lord."  Her  words  came  forth  more  slowly,  and,  at 
every  pause,  that  dread  forerunner  of  dissolution,  the  death- 
rattle,  was  distinctly  audible.  "  Fly,  fly  from  this  accursed 
spot.  Promise — that  you  will  fly  to  save  your  precious  life  ! 
Oh!  Hamilton  —  I  am  going — kiss  me  yet  once  again — bless 
you,  my  husband — the  ho — ly  Virgin  bless  you — husband — 
husband !" 


RETURNING    SPRINO.  261 


PART    II. 

I  gazed  upon  him  where  he  lay, 

And  watched  his  spirit  ebb  away 

Though  pierced  like  pard  by  hunter's  steel, 

He  felt  not  half  that  now  I  feel. 

I  searched,  but  vainly  searched,  to  find 

The  workings  of  a  wounded  mind; 

Each  feature  of  that  sullen  corse 

Betrayed  his  rage  but  no  remorse. 

Oh,  what  had  vengeance  given  to  trace 

Despair  upon  his  dying  face.  —  BYRON. 

THE  severity  of  winter  had  already  begun  to  relax,  although 
the  season  of  its  endurance  had  not  yet  passed  away ;  for,  as 
it  not  unfrequently  happens,  the  unwonted  rigor,  which  had 
characterized  the  last  months  of  1568,  was  succeeded  by  a 
scarcely  less  unusual  mildness  in  the  commencement  of  the 
following  year.  The  air  was  mild,  and,  for  the  most  part, 
southerly ;  and  the  continuance  of  soft  and  misty  weather  had 
clothed  the  meadows  with  a  premature  and  transitory  verdure. 
The  young  grass  pushed  forth  its  tender  blades  from  the 
mound  which  covered  all  that  earth  might  claim  of  the  hapless 
wife  of  Hamilton,  the  small  birds  chirped  above  her  silent 
home,  and  in  the  vales  which  she  had  gladdened  by  her  pres 
ence,  it  seemed  as  though  her  gentle  virtues  were  forgotten 
almost  befoie  her  limbs  had  perished  in  their  untimely  sepul 
chre.  One  heart,  however,  there  still  beat,  that  never  would 
forget ;  one  heart  that  would  have  deemed  forgetfulness  the 
deepest  curse  it  could  be  made  to  feel,  although  the  gift  of 
memory  was  but  the  source  of  unavailing  sorrow  and  despair. 


262  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

/ 

Experience  has  fully  shown  that  to  no  frame  of  mind  is  grief 
more  poignantly  acute  than  to  such  as  having  been  fashioned 
by  nature  in  a  stern  and  rugged  mould,  averse  to  sympathy, 
and  hardly  susceptible  of  any  tender  emotion  have,  by  some 
fortuitous  circumstances,  and  in  some  unguarded  hour,  been 
surrendered  to  the  dominion  of  one  master  passion,  which  has 
worked,  in  time,  an  entire  revulsion  of  their  feelings,  and 
changed  the  very  aim  of  their  existence.  Such  had  been  the 
fate  of  Bothwelhaugh ;  restless,  fierce,  and  ambitious,  as  he 
has  been  pictured  in  his  unbridled  youth  ;  accustomed  to  speak 
and  think  of  women  with  license  and  contempt,  he  had  been 
affected  by  the  sweetness  and  pure  love  of  his  young  bride  to 
a  degree,  which  souls  like  his  alone  are  able  to  conceive  ;  and 
when  deprived  of  her  in  a  manner  so  fearfully  horrible,  and 
with  details  so  aggravating,  the  effects  produced  on  his  de 
meanor  were  proportioned  only  to  the  event  which  gave  them 

birth. 

No  sudden  burst  of  violence,  no  fierce  display  of  temper, 
such  as,  in  his  days  of  unrestrained  indulgence,  he  hath  been 
wont  to  show  at  the  loss  of  a  favorite  falcon,  or  a  faithful 
hound,  followed  upon  this  his  first  true  cause  for  sorrow.  Not 
a  tear  moistened  his  burning  eyeballs,  not  a  sob  relieved  the 
choking  of  his  throat,  as  he  followed  his  first  and  only  love  to 
her  eternal  home  ;  a  heavy  stupor  was  upon  him ;  he  moved, 
spoke,  and  acted  as  if  by  instinct,  rather  than  by  volition ;  and 
there  were  those  who  deemed  that  his  brain  had  received  a 
shock  that  would  paralyze  its  faculties  for  ever,  and  that  the 
high  souled  and  sagacious  Hamilton  was  henceforth  to  be 
rated  as  a  moody,  moping  idiot.  Not  long,  however,  did  this 
unusual  temper  continue;  for  scarcely  had  he  seen  the  last  re 
mains  of  the  only  being  he  had  ever  loved  committed  to  earth, 
ere,  to  the  eye  of  a  superficial  observer,  he  appeared  solely  oc 
cupied  in  the  management  of  his  departure  from  the  patrimony 


THE    BORDER    PARTY.  263 

of  his  immemorial  ancestors  ;  few,  indeed,  and  brief  were  his 
preparations  ;  a  charger  of  matchless  strength  and  symmetry, 
was  easily  provided  on  that  warlike  frontier  to  supply  the  place 
of  that  which  had  borne  him  on  his  fatal  journey ;  his  arms 
were  carefully  inspected,  the  rust  wiped  from  his  two-handed 
blade,  and  the  powder  freshened  in  his  clumsy,  but  effective, 
firearms ;  and,  lastly,  a  dozen  of  the  hardiest  riders  of  the 
border  side  had  preferred  the  fortunes  of  their  natural  chief,  al 
though  his  star  was  overcast,  to  the  usurped  dominions  of  him 
who,  by  the  haughty  regent's  favor,  possessed  the  confiscated 
demesnes  of  a  better  and  braver  man.  Mounted  on  horses 
famed  for  their  hardiness  and  speed,  and  trained  to  all  the 
varied  purposes  of  war  ;  their  bright  and  soldier-like  accoutre 
ments  contrasting  strangely  with  the  wild  expression  of  their 
features,  their  untrimmed  beards,  and  shaggy  locks,  the  small 
band,  as  they  leaned  on  their  long  lances,  or  secured  their 
slight  equipments,  around  the  solitary  tower  in  which  their 
leader  had  passed  the  melancholy  hours  of  his  sojourn,  pre 
sented  a  picture  of  singular  romance  and  beauty.  Horses 
neighed  and  stamped  in  the  echoing  court-yard,  armor  clashed, 
and  spurs  jingled,  and  louder  than  all  were  heard  the  eager 
and  excited  voices  of  the  untamed  borderers  ;  but  every  sound 
was  Jiushed  as  their  stern  chief  came  forth,  surveyed  the  har 
ness  of  every  trooper,  and  the  caparison  of  every  steed  in  si 
lence,  threw  himself  upon  his  horse,  and  wheeled  his  handful 
of  men  at  a  hard  trot  upon  the  road  toward  the  Scottish  capi 
tal.  Hardly  a  mile  of  their  route  had  been  passed,  and  the 
troop  was  diving  into  the  very  glen  which  had  witnessed  the 
downfall  of  Hamilton's  sole  earthly  hope,  when  the  vidette  fell 
hastily  back  with  notice  of  the  approach  of  horsemen.  Hur 
rying  forward,  they  had  already  cleared  the  ravine,  when  they 
beheld  some  half  score  lancers  winding  down  toward  the  rug 
ged  ford,  the  followers,  it  seemed,  of  a  knight  who  had  already 


264  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELIIAUGH. 

passed  the  river.     There  needed  not  a  moment's  halt  to  array 
his  fresh  steeds   and  ready  warriors  for  the   charge,  if  such 
were  to  be  the  result  of  the  encounter.     At  a  glance  had  Ham 
ilton  discovered  the  person  of  the  regent's  minion,  the  cold- 
blooded,  relentless  hater,  who  had  wreaked  his  coward  spite 
upon  his  unoffending,  helpless  wife  ;  nor  were  his  followers 
slower  in  recognising  the  usurper  of  their  chieftain's  patrimony. 
With  a  fierce  and  triumphant  yell,  they  dashed  their  spurs  into 
their  horses'  flanks,  and  with  levelled  spears  and  presented 
match-locks,  threatened  inevitable   destruction    to  the  victim 
who  was  thus  hopelessly  surrendered  to  their  mercy.     The 
nearest  of  his  train  was  separated  from  him  by  the  wide  and 
stony  channel  of  the  Eske,  nor  was  it  possible  that  he  could 
be  joined  by  succor  in  time  to.  preserve  him  from  the  fury  of 
those  wild  avengers.     To  the  astonishment,  however,  of  both 
parties,  Bothwelhaugh,  who  had  only  learned  the  deadly  in 
tentions  of  his  men  from  the  hoarse  clamor  with  which  they 
greeted  the  appearance  of  their  destined  prey,  himself  reined 
up  his  horse  with  a  shock  so  sudden  that  it  had  nearly  thrown 
him  on  his  haunches  —  "  How  now !"  he  shouted,  in  the  short 
tones  of  resolution  ;  "  vassals !  halt,  or  I  cleave  the  foremost 
to  his  teeth !     Saint  Mary  aid  us  ;    but  we  have   fair  disci 
pline  !"     His   determined  words,  no  less  than  the  readiness 
with  which  he  had  upon  the  instant  beat  down  the  lances  of 
the  fiercest  troopers,  arrested  their  wild  violence  ;  and  before 
the  intended  victim  had  prepared  his  mind  either  for  resistance 
or  submission,  the  peril  was  at  an  end. 

Wheeling  his  party  upon  the  narrow  green  beside  the  bridge, 
the  bereaved  husband  halted,  awaiting  the  approach  of  his  wife's 
destroyer,  with  an  apathy  which,  to  the  veterans  who  had  fol 
lowed  him  in  many  a  bloody  day,  appeared  no  less  incompre 
hensible  than  shameful ;  while  one  by  one  the  enemy  filed 
through  the  narrow  pass  formed,  hesitated  for  a  space,  and 


THE    MINION.  265 

then,  perceiving  that  no  opposition  would  be  offered  to  their 
progress,  marched  onward  with  a  steady  front,  and  well-dis 
sembled  resolution.  Last  of  the  troop,  with  downcast  eye  and 
varying  complexion,  as  though  he  scarcely  dared  to  hope  for 
mercy  from  a  man  whom  he  had  so  irreparably  injured,  rode 
the  usurper,  expecting  at  every  step  to  hear  the  border  slogan 
pealing  from  the  lips,  and  to  feel  the  death-blow  thundering 
from  the  arm  of  him,  to  whom  he  had  given  such  ample  cause 
to  curse  the  hour  when  he  was  born.  Motionless  as  a  statue 
sate  the  noble  Hamilton  on  his  tall  war-horse,  his  broadsword 
at  rest  within  its  scabbard,  and  hi^  countenance  as  calm,  and 
almost  as  dark,  as  midnight ;  —  yet,  whatever  were  the  feelings 
that  induced  the  borderer  to  forego  his  vengeance,  when  cir 
cumstances  thus  wooed  him  to  the  deed,  it  was  evident  that 
mercy  had  no  place  within  his  soul  at  that  tremendous  mo 
ment.  The  heavy  gloom  that  dimmed  his  eye  —  the  deep 
scowl  upon  his  brow — the  compression  of  his  lips  —  and  the 
quivering  motion  of  his  fingers,  as  they  hovered  upon  the  gripe 
of  his  dagger,  betokened  no  slight  or  transitory  struggle  ;  and 
the  deep  breath  drawn  from  the  bottom  of  the  chest,  as  the 
hated  minion  disappeared,  spoke,  as  plainly  as  words,  the  re 
lief  which  he  experienced  at  the  removal  of  so  powerful  a 
temptation.  "No!"  he  muttered  between  his  teeth  —  "it 
would  have  been  a  deed  of  madness !  To  have  crushed  the 
jackall  would  but  have  roused  the  lion  into  caution  !  Let 
them  deem  me  coward — slave — fool!  —  if  they  will — so  / 
have  my  revenge  !"  Again  he  resumed  his  route  in  silence, 
nor  did  a  word,  save  an  occasional  command,  fall  from  him  by 
which  the  train  of  his  sensations  might  have  been  discovered ; 
all  day  he  pursued  his  march  with  unwearied  diligence,  bare 
ly  allowing  such  brief  intervals  of  rest  as  might  enable  his 
cattle  to  proceed  with  recruited  vigor  —  and,  while  toiling 
through  the  deep  morass,  or  over  the  pathless  hill,  night  closed, 

12 


266  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

starless  and  overcast,  above  his  houseless  head  ;  but  little  mat 
tered  it  to  such  men  as  that  determined  soldier  and  his  rugged 
comrades,  whether  night  found  them  on  the  lonely  moor  or  in 
the  lighted  hall.  And  if  they  thought  at  all  upon  the  subject,  it 
was  but  to  congratulate  themselves  on  the  fortunate  obscurity 
which  agreed  so  well  with  their  mysterious  enterprise. 

The  second  moon  was  in  her  wane,  from  that  which  had 
beheld  the  death  of  Margaret,  and  her  miserable  babe  ;  yet  the 
savage  executor  of  her  fate   lorded   it  securely  in  the  halls 
which  had  so  lately  been  the  dwelling  of  female  innocence 
and  peace.     For  a  while  men  looked  for  a  sure  and  speedy  ret 
ribution  from  the  fatal  wrath  of  him  who  had  never  yet  been 
known  to  fail  a  friend,  or  to  forgive  a  foe  ;  yet  day  succeeded 
day,  and,  with  the  impunity  of  the  murderer,  the  astonishment 
at  first,  and  ere  long  the  scorn  of  all,  pursued  the  recreant  hus 
band  and  fugitive  chief  of  a  name  once  so  noble.     Some  gray- 
haired  veterans  there  were,  who  would  ominously  shake  their 
heads,  and  press  their  fingers  to  the  lip,  when  topics  such  as 
these  were  broached,  or  hint  that  the  lord  of  Bothwelhaugh 
would  bide  his  time,  and  that,  if  he  were  unaccountably  slow 
in  seeking  his  revenge,  he  paused  but  to  mak  sicker  ;*  gene 
rally,  however,  an  idea  prevailed  that  the  spirit  of  Hamilton 
had  been  so  utterly  prostrated  by  the  blow,  that  no  gallant  deed 
of  vengeance  —  which  was  held  in  those  days  of  recent  bar 
barism,  not  only  justifiable,  but  in  the  highest  degree  praise 
worthy  and  honorable  —  was  now  to  be  dreaded  by  his  foes,  or 
hailed  by  his  firm  adherents.     Little,  however,  did  they  know 
the  man  whom  they  presumed  to  stigmatize  as  a  recreant,  or  a 
coward ;  and  still  less  could  they  conceive  the  change,  which 
had  been  brought  about  by  a  single  event  in  his  formerly  rash 

*  The  celebrated  words  of  Kirkpatrick,  the  companion  of  Robert 
Bruce,  when  he  returned  to  complete  the  slaughter  of  Coinyn,  who  had 
been  stabbed  at  the  high-altar  by  the  patriot. 


THE    REGENT.  267 

and  unthinking  temper.  Once,  not  an  instant  would  have 
elapsed  between  the  commission  of  the  crime  and  its  punish 
ment  ;  once,  he  would  have  rushed  upon  a  thousand  perils  to 
confront  the  man  who  wronged  him,  and  would  have  set  his 
life  at  naught  in  avenging  his  tarnished  honor.  Now,  on  the 
contrary,  his  bold  and  open  hardihood  was  exchanged  for  a 
keen  and  subtle  cunning  ;  now  he  hoarded,  with  a  miser's 
care  that  life  which  he  had  set  upon  a  thousand  times  ;  not 
that  he  loved  his  life,  but  that  he  had  devoted  it  to  the  attain 
ment  of  one  object,  which  had  become  the  single  aim  of  his 
existence.  It  was  from  the  quiver  of  Murray  that  the  arrow 
had  been  selected,  which  had  pierced  his  love,  and  he  haugh 
tily  overlooked  the  wretched  villain,  who  had  aimed  the  dart, 
in  his  anxiety  to  smite  the  mightier  though  remoter  agent,  who 
furnished  his  tool  with  that  power  which  had  destroyed  his  all. 

Successful  in  his  ambitious  projects,  backed  by  the  almost 
omnipotent  league  of  the  covenanted  lords,  wielding  the  trun 
cheon  of  the  regency  as  firmly  as  though  it  were  a  royal  scep 
tre,  feared  and  honored  by  Scotland,  respected  by  the  lion- 
queen  of  England,  Murray  entertained  no  doubt,  harbored  no 
lurking  dread,  of  a  man  too  insignificant,  as  he  deemed  in  his 
overweening  confidence,  to  cope  with  the  occupant  of  Scot 
land's  throne. 

Returning  from  an  expedition  through  the  vales  of  Esk  and 
Clyde,  whose  romantic  waters  had  been  dyed  with  blood  by 
his  remorseless  policy,  leaving  sad  traces  of  his  progress  in 
smoking  villages  and  ruined  towers,  he  had  reached  Linlithgow 
on  his  progress  toward  his  capital.  Surrounded  by  a  select 
force  of  the  best  warriors  from  every  lowland  plain  or  high 
land  glen,  he  had  entered  the  antique  town  as  the  last  sun  that 
was  ever  to  set  for  him  sank  slowly  into  a  bed  of  threatening 
clouds  :  and  all  night  long  the  streets  of  Linlithgow  rang  with 
mingled  sounds  of  war  and  revelry.  From  leagues  around  the 


268  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHATJGH. 

population  of  the  country  had  crowded  in  to  feast  their  eyes 
with  the  triumphant  entry,  and  pay  their  homage  to  the  well 
nigh  royal  conqueror ;  many  an  eye  was  sleepless  on  the 
memorable  night,  but  few  from  sorrow  or  anxiety  ;  yet  there 
was  one  within  the  precincts  of  those  antiquated  walls,  whose 
presence,  had  it  been  whispered  in  the  regent's  ear,  would 
have  shaken  his  dauntless  heart  with  an  unwonted  tremor. 
Overlooking  from  its  Gothic  bartizan,  the  market-place  of  the 
old  city,  stood  one  of  those  gloomy  dwellings,  with  its  tur- 
retted  gable  to  the  street,  its  oaken  portal  clenched  with  many 
a  massive  spike  and  bar,  and  its  narrow  casements  subdivided 
by  stone  transoms,  which  are  yet  to  be  seen  in  several  of  the 
Scottish  boroughs,  presenting  evident  traces  of  having  been 
erected  in  that  iron  time,  when  every  man's  house  was  in 
truth  his  castle.  Here,  in  a  narrow  gallery  which  commanded 
the  principal  thoroughfare,  without  a  light  to  cheer  his  solitude, 
or  fire  to  warm  his  limbs,  watched  the  avenger.  The  night 
was  raw  and  gusty,  yet  he  felt  not  the  penetrating  breath  of 
winter  ;  he  had  ridden  many  a  weary  mile,  yet  his  eyelids 
felt  no  inclination  to  slumber ;  he  had  fasted  since  the  pre 
ceding  night,  yet  he  knew  no  hunger  ;  he  stood  upon  the 
brink  of  murder,  yet  he  shuddered  not.  Before  the  sun  had 
set,  he  had  despatched  his  last  attendant  to  the  castle  of  his 
princely  kinsman  the  duke,  who  bore  his  name,  and  owned  his 
fealty  ;  he  had  supplied  his  charger  with  the  grain  which  was 
to  serve  him  for  to-morrow's  race,  in  one  of  the  lower  halls  of 
the  deserted  house  ;  he  had  barricaded  every  portal  with  un 
wonted  deliberation,  and  secured  the  windows  with  chain  and 
bar ;  he  had  prepared  all  that  was  needful  for  the  tragedy  he 
was  about  to  perpetrate,  and  now  he  was  alone  with  his  con 
science  and  his  God ! 

His    mind,    wrought   to    the    highest   pitch   of    resolution, 
dreamed  not  of  compunction,  nor  did  he  for  an  instant  doubt 


THE    AVENGER'S    HOUR.  269 

his  full  justification  in  the  eyes  of  his  Creator,  although  he  was 
lying  in  wait  secretly  to  mark  a  fellow-being,  as  though  he 
were  a  beast  of  the  chase.  Nor  indeed  did  he  feel  so  much 
of  hesitation  in  leveling  his  rifle*  at  his  brother  man,  as  he 
had  often  experienced  in  striking  down  the  antlered  monarch 
of  the  waste.  Oftentimes,  when  the  beautiful  deer  had  been 
stretched  at  his  feet  by  his  unerring  aim,  with  its  grace 
ful  limbs  unstrung  for  ever,  and  its  noble  crest  grovelling  in 
the  dust,  had  he  sorrowed  in  secret  over  the  destruction  he 
had  wrought  for  momentary  pleasure  ;  but  no  such  thoughts 
were  here  to  meet  his  resolution,  or  to  damp  his  anticipated 
triumph.  As  he  paced  on  his  short  beat  with  firm  and  meas 
ured  stride,  he  reckoned  the  minutes  with  trembling  anxiety, 
and  as  the  successive  hours  clanged  from  the  lofty  steeple,  he 
cursed  the  space  that  yet  divided  him  from  his  revenge  ;  still, 
amidst  all  his  eagerness,  he  had  the  strength  of  mind  to  banish 
from  his  thoughts  all  recollections  of  the  grievance,  which  he 
never  recurred  to  but  he  felt  his  brain  reel,  and  his  nerves 
tremble  with  fury,  which  he  could  neither  guide  nor  moderate. 
Night,  however,  though  it  may  be  tedious  even  to  disgust,  can 
not  endure  for  ever ;  and,  in  due  time,  the  misty  light  of  dawn 
glimmered  through  the  narrow  panes  upon  the  scene  of  fatal 
preparation.  The  wall  facing  the  window,  hung  from  the 

*  "The  carabine  with  which  the  regent  was  shot,  is  still  preserved  at 
Hamilton  palace,  it  is  a  brass  piece  of  middling  length,  very  small  in  the 
bore;  and,  what  is  rather  extraordinary,  appears  to  have  been  rifled,  or 
indented  in  the  barrel.  It  had  a  matchlock,  for  which  a  modern  firelock 
has  been  injudiciously  substituted."  —  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

We  believe  this  to  be  the  earliest  rifle  on  record  ;  in  many  superb  col 
lections  of  armor  which  it  has  been  our  fortune  to  inspect,  we  have  seen 
fire-arms  of  all  dates  and  countries,  but  have  never  seen  a  rifle  bearing 
an  earlier  date  than  the  end  of  the  17th,  or  commencement  of  the  18th 
century;  yet  the  death  of  the  regent  occurred  in  January,  1569,  at  which 
period  the  harquebuss,  or  caliver,  in  common  use  was  so  unwieldy,  that 
the  use  of  archery  had  been  but  recently  exploded. — Ed. 


270  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHATJGH. 

ceiling  to  the  floor  with  black  cloth,  that  no  shadow  might  be* 
tray  the  lurking  enemy,  the  piles  of  bedding  strewed  upon  the 
floor  to  prevent  a  single  footfall  from  awakening  suspicion, 
and,  on  a  table  by  the  casement,  the  match-lock  rifle,  with  its 
slow  match  already  kindled,  the  horn  and  bullets  ready  for  the 
hand,  no  less  than  the  accoutrements  and  bearing  of  the  man, 
proclaimed  the  fixed  determination  with  which  he  had  plotted, 
and  the  cold-blooded  preparation  with  which  he  was  prompt  to 
execute  his  enemy's  destruction. 

As  the  morning  broke,  a  wild  flourish  of  trumpets  sounded 
the  reveille  ftom  a  distant  quarter  of  the  town,  wherein  his  vic 
tim  had  passed  the  hours  of  sleep  in  undisturbed  tranquillity. 
The  sound  fell  upon  the  ear  of  Hamilton,  and,  thrilling  to  his 
heart's  core,  stirred  him  like  the  horse  of  Job.  Again  he  ap 
plied  himself  to  his  task  ;  again  he  reconnoitred  every  outlet 
to  the  main  street,  and  made  assurance  doubly  sure  that,  for 
ten  minutes,  at  the  least,  the  fastenings  could  resist  any  as 
saults  short  of  the  shot  of  ordnance  ;  he  equipped  his  charger 
with  the  lightest  trappings,  tried  every  buckle,  and  proved  the 
least  important  thong  ;  then,  as  the  time  drew  nigh,  led  him  forth 
silently  to  the  rear  of  the  building,  whence  a  gloomy  and  neg 
lected  garden  conducted  to  an  unfrequented  lane,  by  which 
he  might  gain  access  to  the  open  country.  Still,  when  all  this 
was  finished,  when  the  preparations  were  concluded,  and  his 
escape  provided  to  the  utmost  that  human  foresight  could 
effect,  a  tedious  hour  had  yet  to  creep  away  before  the  success 
of  his  machinations  should  be  ascertained.  Cautiously  he  re 
traced  his  steps,  and  entering  once  more  upon  the  scene  of 
action,  prepared  his  weapon  for  the  deed  with  scrupulous  at 
tention  ;  the  first  smile  that  had  lightened  his  gloomy  brow 
now  flashed  across  it  as  he  drove  the  leaden  messenger  down 
the  tube,  from  which  it  was  soon  to  be  launched  on  its  career 
of  blood ;  and  raising  the  well-proved  instrument  to  his  un- 


THE  REGENT'S  APPROACH.  271 

erring  eye,  examined  with  a  markman's  skill  its  range  and  bal 
ance.  Then  coolly,  as  though  he  were  about  to  provide  himself 
against  the  inconveniences  of  a  protracted  chase,  drawing  from 
a  recess  food  and  wine,  he  broke  bread  and  drank,  not  without 
satisfaction. 

Hardly  had  he  finished  his  slender  meal  before  the  distant 
chime  of  the  matin  bells,  proclaiming  the  earliest  service  of 
the  church,  tinkled  upon  the  breeze.  Reverently,  devoutly 
did  the  future  murderer  sink  upon  his  knees,  and  fervently  did 
he  implore  the  aid  of  that  Being,  who,  if  it  be  not  impious  to 
imagine  the  ideas  of  Divinity,  must  have  looked  down  with  ab 
horrence  on  the  supplication  of  one  who  was  even  then  plot 
ting  a  deed  of  blood,  unless  the  ignorance  and  barbarism  of 
the  age  might  pass  for  some  alleviation  of  individual  error  in 
the  sight  of  Him  who  is  no  less  a  God  of  mercy  than  of  justice 
and  of  truth.  Strengthened  in  his  awful  purpose,  and  confi 
dent  of  both  the  goodness  and  the  approaching  triumph  of  his 
cause,  Hamilton  rose  up  from  his  ill-judged  devotions.  Sud 
denly  the  roar  of  artillery  shook  the  casements,  and  the  din  of 
martial  music,  trumpet,  horn,  and  kettle-drum,  mingling  in  wild 
discordance  with  the  pibrochs  of  the  highland  clans,  an 
nounced  that  the  regent  had  commenced  his  progress. 

At  once  every  symptom  of  anxiety  or  eagerness  disappeared 
from  the  lowering  countenance  of  Hamilton  ;  while  there  had 
been  uncertainty,  the  slightest  possible  shade  of  trepidation 
had  appeared  in  his  demeanor ;  but  now,  as  in  the  warlike 
symphony,  and  the  acclamations  of  the  populace,  he  foresaw 
the  success  of  all  his  desperate  machinations,  he  was  calm 
and  self-possessed ;  now,  when  a  meaner  spirit  would  have 
shrunk  from  the  completion  of  the  deed,  which  it  had  dared 
to  plan,  but  lacked  the  resolution  to  perform,  the  full  extent 
of  his  determination  was  most  manifest.  There  was  a  quiet 
composure  in  his  eye,  a  serene  complacency  in  the  repose  of 


272  HAMILTON    OF    BOTH WELHAUGH. 

every  feature,  which,  as  considered  in  connection  with  his 
dreadful  purpose,  was  more  appalling,  than  the  fiercest  burst 
of  passion.  Firm  as  a  statue  he  stood  in  the  dark  embrasure, 
the  ready  weapon  in  his  hand,  and  his  keen  glance  watching 
the  approach  of  his  doomed  victim.  Louder  and  louder 
swelled  the  notes  of  triumph  ;  and  now  the  very  words  of  the 
applauding  concourse  became  audible:  "God  save  the  regent!" 
"  Life  to  the  noble  Murray !"  Then  a  score  of  lancers  lightly 
equipped,  and  nobly  mounted,  clattered  along  the  echoing 
street  to  clear  a  path  for  the  procession ;  but  their  efforts  were 
exerted  to  no  purpose,  the  populace,  which  thronged  the  area 
of  the  place  closed  in  behind  the  soldiers,  as  waves  uniting  in 
the  wake  of  some  swift  sailer,  and,  in  their  eagerness  to  prove 
the  extent  of  their  good  wishes,  frustrated  their  own  intent,  and 
rendered  their  favorite's  doom  more  certain.  Banner  after  ban 
ner,  troop  after  troop,  swept  onward  !  Glittering  in  all  the  gor- 
geousness  of  steel  and  scarlet,  marshalled  by  men  whose  fame 
for  warlike  science  and  undaunted  bravery  might  have  chal 
lenged  the  glory  of  earth's  most  widely-bruited  heroes,  elated 
with  recent  victory,  and  proud  of  the  unconquered  leader  whom 
they  guarded,  they  trampled  on,  "  defying  earth  and  confident 
of  heaven."  Morton  was  there,  with  his  sneering  smile  and 
downcast  eye,  as  when  he  struck  his  poniard  into  the  heart  of 
Rizzio  ;  and  Lindsay,  of  the  Byres,  sordid  in  his  antiquated 
garb  and  rusty  armor,  with  the  hardest  heart  beneath  his  iron 
corslet  that  ever  beat  in  a  human  breast ;  and  Kircaldy,  of  the 
Grange,  the  best  and  bravest  soldier  of  the  age  ;  and  the  cele 
brated  Knox,  riding  in  his  clerical  garb  amidst  the  spears  — 
Knox,  of  whom  it  was  justly  spoken  after  his  decease,  that  he  had 
never  feared  the  face  of  man  !  and  the  chief  of  the  Macfarlanes 
with  his  shadowy  tartans,  and  the  eagle-feather  in  his  bonnet, 
and  a  thousand  kilted  caterans  at  his  heels  !  But  proudly  as 
the  marshalled  ranks  proceeded  on  their  march,  and  haughty 


THE    MURDER.  273 

as  was  the  bearing  of  the  crested  warriors,  there  was  not  a 
man  in  all  the  train  that  could  compare  in  thevves  and  sinews 
with  him  who  watched  within.  His  closely-fitting  dress  of 
chamois  leather,  displaying  the  faultless  proportions  of  his 
limbs,  the  elasticity  of  his  tread,  the  majestic  melancholy  of 
his  expression,  gained  by  the  contrast,  when  viewed  beside 
the  pomp  and  splendor  of  his  haughty  foemen.  Another  troop 
of  lancers  striving  in  vain  to  remove  the  crowded  spectators 
from  the  route  ;  and  then,  preceded  by  heralds  in  their  quar 
tered  tabards,  amid  the  clang  of  instruments,  and  the  redoubled 
clamors  of  the  multitude,  on  a  gray,  which  had  been  cheaply 
purchased  at  the  price  of  an  earl's  ransom,  sheathed  from  head 
to  heel  in  the  tempered  steel  of  Milan,  Murray  came  forth,  in. 
all  but  name  a  king.  So  closely  did  the  crowd  press  forward, 
that  the  chargers  of  the  knights  could  barely  move  at  a  foot's 
pace.  Glencairn  was  at  his  right,  and  on  his  left,  the  truest 
of  his  followers,  Douglas  of  Parkhead. 

The  pomp  had  passed  unnoticed  ;  the  well-known  figures 
had  gleamed  before  the  eyes  of  Hamilton,  like  phantoms  in  a 
troubled  dream  ;  but  no  sooner  had  his  victim  met  his  eye, 
than  the  ready  rifle  was  at  his  shoulder.  The  regent's  face 
was  turned  toward  his  murderer,  and  full  at  the  broad  brow 
did  the  avenger  point  the  tube.  The  match  was  kindled,  the 
finger  pressed  the  trigger,  when,  at  a  word  from  Douglas,  he 
turned  his  head  ;  the  massive  cerveilliere  would  have  defied  a 
hail  of  bullets,  and  the  moment  for  the  deed  was  lost.  With 
out  a  moment's  pause,  without  removing  the  weapon  from  his 
eye,  or  his  eye  from  the  living  mark,  he  suffered  the  muzzle 
to  sink  slowly  down  the  line  of  Murray's  person.  Just  below 
the  hip,  where  the  rim  of  the  corslet  should  have  lapped  over 
the  jointed  cuishes,  there  was  one  spot  at  which  the  crimson 
velvet  of  his  under-garb  glared  through  a  crevice  in  the  plates, 
—  a  French  crown  would  have  guarded  twice  the  space,  yet 

12* 


274  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

on  that  trifling  aperture  the  deadly  aim  was  fixed.  A  broad 
flash  was  thrown  upon  the  faces  of  the  group,  and  ere  the  sound 
had  followed  the  streak  of  flame,  the  gray  dashed  madly  for 
ward,  with  empty  saddle,  and  unmastered  rein.  The  con 
queror  had  fallen  in  the  very  flush  of  his  pride  ;  and,  at 
the  first  glance,  it  seemed,  he  had  not  fallen  singly,  for  so 
true  had  been  the  aim,  and  so  resistless  the  passage  of  the 
bullet,  that,  after  piercing  through  his  vitals,  it  had  power  to 
rend  the  steel  asunder,  and  slay  the  horse  of  Douglas.  For  a 
moment  there  was  a  silence  —  a  short,  breathless  pause  —  the 
gathering  of  the  tempest!  —  a  yell  of  execration  and  revenge, 
and  a  hundred  axes  thundered  on  the  steel-clenched  portal. 

One  instant  the  avenger  leaned  forth  from  the  casement  in 
the  full  view  of  all,  to  mark  the  death-pang  of  his  prey.  He 
saw  the  life-blood  welling  from  the  wound,  he  saw  the  death- 
sweat  clogging  his  darkened  brow,  he  saw  the  bright  eye 
glaze,  and  the  proud  lip  curl  in  the  agony — but  he  saw  not, 
what  he  had  longed  to  trace — remorse  —  terror  at  quitting 
earth  —  despair  of  gaining  heaven  !  He  turned  away  in  deeper 
torment  than  the  dying  mortal  at  his  feet,  for  he  felt  that  all 
his  wrongs  were  now  but  half  avenged  !  The  presence  of  the 
murderer  lent  double  vigor  to  the  arms  of  his  pursuers  —  a 
dozen  flashes  of  musketry  from  the  crowd  glanced  on  his  sight 
—  a  dozen  bullets  whistled  round  his  head — but  he  bore  a 
charmed  life.  The  gate  shook,  crashed  beneath  the  force  of 
the  assailants — fell,  as  he  sprang  into  the  saddle  !  He  locked 
the  sally-port  behind  him,  darted  through  the  lonely  garden, 
gained  the  lane,  and  saw  the  broad  free  moors  before  him. 
But,  as  he  cleared  the  court,  a  score  of  light-armed  horsemen 
wheeled  round  the  corner  of  the  building,  dashed  their  horses 
to  their  speed,  and,  with  tremendous  shouts,  galloped  recklessly 
in  the  pursuit.  It  was  a  fearful  race,  the  broken  pavement 
of  the  lane  presented  no  obstacle  to  their  precipitate  haste ; 


A    RIDE    FOR    LIFE.  275 

pursuers  and  pursued  plied  spur  and  scourge  with  desperate 
eagerness,  and,  for  a  space,  a  lance's  length  was  hardly  clear 
between  the  fugitive  and  the  half-frantic  soldiery  ;  but  gradu 
ally  the  lighter  equipments,  and  the  fresher  steed  of  Hamilton, 
began  to  tell.  He  had  already  gained  a  hundred  yards,  and, 
at  every  stride,  was  leaving  his  enemies  yet  further  in  the 
rear ;  there  were  no  fire-arms  among  the  knot,  who  pressed 
most  closely  on  his  traces,  and  he  would  now  have  gained  the 
open  country,  and  have  escaped  without  a  further  struggle  ; 
but,  as  he  cleared  the  straggling  buildings  of  the  suburb,  a 
fresh  relay  of  troopers  met  him  in  the  front,  headed  by  Lind 
say,  Morton,  and  Glencairn.  Had  they  been  ten  yards  further 
in  advance,  the  life  of  Bothwelhaugh  would  not  have  been 
worth  a  moment's  purchase — but  he  had  yet  a  chance.  On. 
the  left  hand  of  the  road  lay  a  wide  range  of  moorland  pas 
tures,  stretching  downward  to  a  deep  and  sluggish  brook,  beyond 
which  the  land  extended  in  waste  and  forest  far  away  to  the 
demesnes  of  James  of  Arran,  duke  of  Chatelherault  and  Hamil 
ton.  A  six-foot  wall,  of  unhewn  limestone,  parted  the  grass 
land  from  the  highway,  and,  without  a  pause,  he  turned  his 
horse's  head  straight  to  the  lofty  barrier.  At  the  top  of  his 
pace,  the  steed  drove  on  —  a  steady  pull  upon  the  rein,  a  sharp 
plunge  of  the  spurs,  and,  with  a  fearful  bound,  he  got  clear 
over; — but,  with  equal  resolution  did  the  confederate  lords 
pursue  —  Lindsay  was  still  the  foremost,  and  three  others 
thundered  close  behind !  Another,  and  another  of  these  huge 
fences  crossed  their  line,  but  not  a  rider  faltered,  not  a  horse 
fell.  The  price  of  the  chase  was  fearful — the  pace,  at  which 
it  was  maintained,  was  too  exhausting  for  both  man  and  beast 
to  be  supported  long,  and,  obviously,  the  chances  of  the  fugi 
tive  were  fast  diminishing.  Another  wall  —  another  success 
ful  leap  —  Lindsay  is  down,  but  Morton  takes  his  place — the 
bottom  of  the  hill  is  gained,  and  the  winding  streamlet  lies 


276  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

before  them,  deep  and  unfordable,  its  rugged  banks  rising  pre 
cipitously  from  the  water's  edge,  and  beyond  it  the  tangled 
shelter  of  the  forest.  Already  the  pursuers  considered  their 
success  as  certain  —  already  the  shout  of  triumph  was  bursting 
from  their  lips,  and  the  avenging  blades  unsheathed.  Both- 
welhaugh  saw  that  his  case  was  well-nigh  hopeless,  yet  he 
urged  his  horse  against  the  yawning  brook ;  but  the  good 
steed,  jaded  by  his  exertions,  and  cowed  by  the  brightness  of 
the  water,  shyed  wildly  from  the  leap,  and  stopped  short, 
trembling  in  every  joint.  Calmly  the  soldier  tightened  his 
rein,  breathed  the  exhausted  animal  ten  seconds'  space,  and, 
drawing  his  light  hunting-sword,  rode  slowly  back,  as  if  to 
face  his  enemies.  The  cry  of  exultation,  which  was  raised 
by  all  who  saw  him  turn  to  bay,  was  heard  distinctly  at  Lin- 
lithgow,  and  every  one,  who  heard  it,  deemed  the  murderer's 
head  secure.  Morton  and  Glencairn  strove  hard  for  the  honor 
of  striking  down  the  slayer  of  their  friend  —  but,  when  within 
a  horse's  length,  Hamilton  turned  once  again,  pulled  hard  upon 
his  curb,  stood  in  his  stirrups,  and,  as  he  reached  the  brink, 
brought  down  his  naked  hanger  edgewise  on  the  courser's 
croup.  The  terrified  brute  sprang  wildly  forward,  cleared  the 
tremendous  chasm,  and  would  have  fallen  on  the  other  verge 
but  for  the  powerful  hand  of  the  rider.  With  a  startling  shout 
of  exultation,  he  shook  his  arm  aloft,  scowled  on  his  baffled 
enemies,  and  was  lost  to  their  sight  amid  the  leafless  thickets ! 


A    SUNSET    IN    AUGUST.  277 


PART    III. 

*  *  Fare  thee  well,  lord ; 

I  would  not  be  the  villain  that  thou  thinkest, 
For  the  whole  space  that's  in  the  tyrant's  grasp, 
And  the  rich  east  to  boot — Macbeth,  Act  IV.,  Scene  3. 

THE  sun  was  setting  after  a  lovely  day  in  August,  and  his 
rays  still  gilded  the  broad  mirror  of  the  Seine,  and  the  rich 
scenery  of  Paris — palaces,  towers,  and  domes,  with  crowded 
streets,  and  shadowy  groves  between — reposing  in  the  mellow 
light,  while  the  heat,  which  had  been  so  oppressive  in  the 
earlier  hours,  was  now  tempered  by  a  soft  breeze  from  the 
west.  Tranquil,  nowever,  as  that  picture  showed  when  viewed 
from  a  distance,  there  was  little  of  tranquillity  in  aught  beyond 
the  view ;  the  bells  from  a  hundred  steeples  were  ringing  out 
their  liveliest  tones  of  joy,  banners  and  pennons  of  many  col 
ors  flaunted  from  every  pinnacle,  while  ever  and  anon  the 
heavy  roar  of  cannon  was  mingled  with  the  acclamations  of 
the  countless  multitude.  Every  window  was  thronged  with 
joyous  faces,  every  place  and  thoroughfare  swarmed  with  the 
collected  population  of  that  mighty  city,  all,  as  it  seemed,  par 
taking  of  one  common  happiness,  and  glowing  with  mutual  be 
nevolence.  Here  swept  along  a  procession  of  capuchins  in 
their  snowy  robes,  with  pix  and  chalice,  banner  and  crucifix, 
censers  steaming  with  perfumes,  and  manly  voices  swelling  in 
religious  symphony  ;  here  some  proud  count  of  Romish  faith, 
descended  from  his  warhorse,  and  bent  his  lofty  crest  to  the 
very  dust  in  adoration  of  the  elevated  host :  and  here  some  no 


2t8 


HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 


less  noble  Huguenot  passed  on  in  calm  indifference,  without 
exciting  either  wonder,  as  it  would  appear,  or  anger  by  his  in 
attention  to  the  holiest  ceremonial  of  the  church.  Minstrels 
and  jongleurs  with  rote  and  viol,  professors  of  the  gai  science  in 
every  different  tongue,  and  with  almost  every  instrument,  were 
mingled  with  peasant-maidens  in  their  variegated  garbs  and 
wooden  shoes,  and  condottieri  sheathed  in  steel.  Fair  dames 
and  gallant  knights  of  high  descent  jostled,  forgetful  of  their 
proud  distinctions,  with  the  despised  plebeians  whose  hearts 
yet  beat  as  lightly  beneath  their  humble  garments,  as  if  they 
throbbed  under  robes  of  ermine,  and  embroideries  of  gold.  '  At 
this  delicious  hour,  and  contemplating  this  moving  picture,  two 
persons  stood,  shrouded  from  public  view  by  the  rich  draperies 
of  the  window,  in  a  projecting  oriel  of  the  royal  residence  —  a 
youth,  whose  unmuscular  limbs  and  beardless  cheek  pro 
claimed  his  tender  years,  although  the  deep  lines  graven  on 
his  brow  by  intense  thought,  or  trenched  by  the  fiery  plough 
share  of  unmastered  passions,  belonged  to  a  maturer  age.  His 
cloak  and  jerkin  of  Genoa  velvet  slashed  and  faced  with  satin, 
and  fringed  with  the  most  costly  lace  of  Flanders,  were  of 
the  deepest  sable,  from  which  flashed  forth  in  strong  relief 
his  knightly  belt  and  collar  of  invaluable  diamonds.  In  person, 
air,  and  garb,  he  was  one,  from  whom  the  stranger's  eye  would 
turn  in  aversion,  and  return  again  to  gaze,  as  if  by  some  wild 
fascination,  upon  that  sallow  countenance  and  hollow  eye, 
marked  as  they  were  by  feelings  most  high  and  most  unholy. 
Beside  him  stood  a  female  of  superb  stature,  and  a  form  still 
as  symmetrical  as  though  her  eighteenth  summer  had  not  yet 
passed  away.  There  was  a  fierce  and  lionlike  beauty  in  her 
masculine  features,  but  that  beauty  was  defaced  and  rendered 
horrible  by  the  dreadful  expression,  which  glared  from  her 
eyes,  as  though  some  demon  were  looking  forth  from  the  abode 
he  had  usurped  within  a  mortal  frame,  of  more  than  mortal 


CATHARINE    DE    MEDICIS.  279 

majesty.*  Her  garb  was  like  her  son's,  for  such  was  he  on 
whom  she  leaned,  of  the  deepest  mourning,  but  gathered  round 
her  waist  by  a  broad  cincture  of  brilliants,  from  which  a  mas 
sive  rosary  of  gold  and  gems  hung  nearly  to  the  knee  ;  her 
long  tresses,  which,  though  sprinkled  now  with  many  a  silvery 
hair,  might  once  have  shamed  the  raven,  were  braided  closely 
round  her  forehead  and  partially  confined  beneath  a  circlet  of 
the  same  precious  jewels.  They  were,  in  truth,  a  pair  pre 
eminently  stamped  by  Nature's  hand,  and  marked  out,  as  it 
were,  from  the  remainder  of  their  species,  for  the  performance 
of  some  strange  destiny,  or  good  or  evil.  Had  Catharine  de 
Medicis  and  her  royal  son  been  enveloped  in  the  meanest 
weeds,  stripped  of  all  ensigns  of  their  dignity,  and  encountered 
in  regions  most  distant  from  their  empire,  they  must  have  in 
stantly  been  recognised  as  persons  born  to  exalted  eminence 
above  their  fellow-mortals,  and  singularly  qualified  by  talents, 
no  less  powerful  than  perverted,  for  the  art  of  government.  A 
single  gentleman,  in  royal  liveries,  attended  in  an  antechamber 
on  his  sovereign's  call,  while  in  a  gallery  beyond  the  nodding 
plumes  and  gorgeous  armor  of  the  Italian  mercenaries,  who  at 
that  period  were  in  truth  the  flower  of  all  continental  armies, 
showed  that  the  privacy  of  monarchs,  if  splendid,  was  but  in 
secure,  inasmuch  as  their  power  was  enthroned  upon  the  fears 
rather  than  upon  the  affections  of  their  subjects.  For  many 
moments  they  gazed  in  silence  on  the  passing  throng,  but  it 
was  evident  from  the  working  of  both  their  countenances,  that 
their  survey  had  for  its  object  anything,  rather  than  the  mere 
gratification  of  curiosity.  At  length  —  as  a  noble-looking  war 
rior,  his  venerable  locks  already  blanched  to  snowy  whiteness, 
before  his  nervous  limbs  had  given  a  solitary  token  of  decay, 
rode  slowly  past,  attended  by  a  brilliant  train,  in  confident  se 
curity —  a  scornful  smile  curled  the  dark  features  of  the  boy 
with  even  more  than  wonted  malignity.  "  The  simple  fool !" 


280  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

he  whispered  to  his  evil  counsellor.  "  He  rides  as  calmly 
through  the  courts  of  our  palace,  as  though  he  marshalled  his 
accursed  heretics  within  his  guarded  leaguer  !" 

"Patience!  my  son,"  returned  that  fiendlike  parent  —  "pa 
tience,  yet  for  a  while.  A  few  days  more  and  the  admiral 
shall  cumber  the  earth  no  longer.  The  sword  is  already 
whetted  for  his  carcase,  and  would  to  Heaven  that  all  our  foes 
were  tottering  on  the  edge  of  the  same  gulf,  which  is  prepared 
for  thee,  Gaspar  de  Coligni." 

"  I  would  it  were  over,"  answered  Charles  ;  "  there  is  more 
of  subtlety  and  warlike  skill  in  that  gray  head,  than  in  a 
hundred  Condes.  The  day  approaches  —  the  day  that  must 
dawn  upon  the  brightest  triumph  of  the  church  ;  and  yet  so 
long  as  that  man  lives,  nothing  is  certain.  One  doubt  in  that 
shrewd  mind,  and  all  is  lost.  He  must  be  dealt  upon  right 
shortly  —  I  would  it  might  be  done  to-morrow  !" 

He  raised  his  eyes  half-doubtingly  to  the  countenance  of  his 
mother,  and  almost  started  at  the  illumination  of  triumphant  ven 
geance,  which  kindled  in  her  withering  smile  — "  To-morrow 
he  shall  perish  !"  she  hissed,  in  the  suppressed  tones  of  deadly 
hatred  and  unalterable  resolution  —  "What,  ho!  who  waits 
there  ?"  she  continued,  as  her  quick  eye  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
passing  figure  in  the  crowd  —  To-morrow  he  shall  perish,  and 
there  stands  the  man  who  must  perform  the  deed !  God's 
head  !  must  I  call  twice  !  without  there  !"  and  in  the  furious 
anxiety  of  the  moment,  she  stamped  her  heel  upon  the  tessela- 
ted  floor  till  the  very  casements  shook.  Startled  by  her  vehe 
mence,  the  page  drew  near  on  bended  knee,  and  was  faltering 
forth  apologies,  when  with  a  voice  of  thunder  she  cut  him 
short — "Nearer!  thou  dolt — nearer  I  say — wilt  pause  till 
't  is  too  late  !  Look  forth  here  !  seest  thou  yon  tall  swords 
man  ! —  him  with  the  velvet  bonnet  and  St.  Andrew's  cross? 
—  Thou  dost?  —  After  him  with  the  speed  of  light!  —  say  to 


SCOTTISH    CAVALIER.  281 

him  what  thou  wilt,  so  thou  sayst  not  I  sent  thee,  but  bring 
him  to  his  majesty's  apartment,  so  soon  as  night  shall  have 
well  fallen!  —  Hence,  begone!  —  Cover  thy  liveries  with  a 
simple  riding-cloak,  and  away  !  —  Why  dost  thou  pause  ?  Be 
gone — nay,  hold !  if  he  should  doubt,  or  fear,  say  to'  him  as  a 
token,  '  The  sword  is  the  most  certain  spur  !'" 

The  man,  whose  form  had  thus  attracted  the  notice  of  Cath 
arine,  might  well  have  drawn  attention  by  his  magnificent  pro 
portions  alone,  even  had  his  habit  been  less  at  variance,  than 
it  was,  with  the  established  fashion  of  the  country.  A  plain 
bonnet  of  dark  velvet,  with  the  silver  cross  of  Scotland,  and  a 
single  eagle's  feather,  drawn  forward  almost  to  his  eyebrows, 
a  corslet  of  steel,  burnished  till  it  shone  as  brightly  as  silver, 
worn  above  a  dress  of  chamois-leather  exquisitely  dressed, 
and  fitting  with  unusual  closeness  to  his  limbs,  offered  a  sin 
gular  contrast,  from  its  plainness  and  total  want  of  ornament, 
to  the  gorgeous  garments  of  the  French  cavaliers  fluttering 
with  fringes,  and  slashed  with  a  dozen  different  colors,  besides 
the  laces  and  embroidery  of  gold  or  silver,  which  were,  at 
that  period,  the  prevailing  order  of  the  day.  Still  more  wide 
ly  did  the  old-fashioned  broadsword  of  the  stranger,  with  its 
blade  four  feet  in  length,  and  its  two-handed  gripe,  differ  from 
the  diamond-hilted  rapiers  of  the  Parisian  gallants  ;  —  and  most 
of  all  did  the  stern  and  melancholy  air  of  the  noble  Scot — for 
such  did  his  bearing  and  his  dress  proclaim  him  —  distinguish 
him  from  the  joyous,  and,  at  times,  frivolous  mirth  of  the  gay 
youths,  who  crossed  his  path  at  every  step.  Nor  did  his  ap 
pearance  fail  to  attract  comments,  not  of  the  most  flattering  de 
scription,  from  the  French  chivalry,  who,  renowned  as  they  most 
justly  were,  for  skill  in  the  tilt-yard,  and  valor  in  the  field,  had, 
even  at  distant  era,  acquired  the  character  of  coxcombry  and 
over-attention  to  externals,  which  is  by  some  supposed  to  have 
descended  to  the  present  generation.  It  is  probable  that  it  was 


282  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHATTGH. 

owing  in  no  slight  degree,  to  the  muscular  form  and  determined 
port  of  the  soldier,  that  these  comments  did  not  assume  a  more 
offensive  shape  ;  yet,  even  thus,  they  had  nearly  kindled  the 
ire  of  the  formidable  individual  to  whom  they  bore  reference. 
— "  Heavens  !  what  a  wild  barbarian  !"  lisped  a  fair  girl  to 
the  splendidly-dressed  cavalier  on  whom  she  leaned.  "  A 
Scottish  Highlander,  I  fancy,"  returned  the  gallant,  after  a  con 
temptuous  glance,  "  with  his  broadsword  of  the  twelfth  century, 
and  his  foreign  gait  and  swagger."  The  blood  rushed  furiously 
into  the  weather-beaten  cheeks  of  the  proud  foreigner,  and  for  a 
second  he  doubted  whether  he  should  not  hurl  defiance  into 
the  teeth  of  the  audacious  jester,  but,  with  the  reflection  of  a 
moment,  his  better  sense  prevailed.  Twirling  his  mustache 
with  a  grim  and  scornful  smile,  he  passed  upon  his  way, 
shouldering  the  press  before  him,  as  he  muttered,  "The  painted 
popinjays,  they  neither  know  the  weapons  of  men,  nor  the 
courtesy  of  cavaliers  !"  It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  emis 
sary  of  the  queen,  who  had  easily  tracked  a  figure  so  remark 
able  as  his  of  whom  he  was  in  quest,  overtook  and  brushed 
him  somewhat  roughly  on  the  elbow  as  he  passed.  "Follow," 
he  said  ;  "  follow  me,  if  you  have  the  heart  of  a  man."  When 
first  he  had  felt  the  touch,  yet  boiling  with  indignation  at  the 
treatment  he  had  experienced,  he  had  half  unsheathed  his 
poniard ;  but  having  received,  as  he  imagined  in  the  words 
which  followed,  an  invitation  to  a  proper  spot  for  appealing  to 
the  sword,  he  strode  onward  in  the  wake  of  his  challenger, 
silent  and  determined.  A  few  steps  brought  them  to  a  narrow 
alley,  into  which  his  guide  plunged,  turning  his  head  to  mark 
whether  he  was  followed  as  he  wished  ;  and,  after  threading  one 
or  two  intricate  and  unfrequented  streets,  they  turned  into  the 
royal  gardens,  which,  now  so  famous,  even  then  were  decorated 
with  no  common  skill.  "  This  spot,  at  length,  will  suit  us,"  said 
the  Frenchman.  "  Monsieur  is,  undoubtedly,  a  man  of  honor  ?" 


THE    SUMMONS.  283 

"  You  should  have  learned  my  quality,"  replied  the  haughty 
Scot,  "  before  you  dared  to  offer  me  an  insult.  Draw,  sir,  we 
are  here  to  fight,  and  not  to  parley !" 

"  Not  so,  beau  sire,"  returned  the  other,  not  a  little  annoyed 
as  it  would  seem,  at  the  unexpected  turn  which  the  affair  had 
taken;  "I  am  the  bearer  of  a  message  to  you  —  a  message  from 
a  lady,  not  a  cartel !" 

"  Now  out  upon  thee  for  a  pitiful  pandar,"  said  the  Scot, 
with  increased  ire  ;  "  dost  thou  take  me  for  a  boy  to  be 
cheated  with  such  toys  as  these  ?  Out  with  your  weapon,  be 
fore  I  compel  you  to  it  by  the  hard  word,  and  the  harder 
blow  !" 

"  May  all  the  saints  forefend !"  replied  the  frightened  cour 
tier  ;  "  your  valor,  my  fair  sir,  has  flown  away  with  your  dis 
cretion.  I  come  to  you  a  peaceful  bearer  of  a  friendly  invita 
tion,  and  you  will  speak  of  naught  but  words.  A  lady  of  the 
high  nobility  would  speak  with  you  on  matters  of  high  import, 
would  charge  you  with  the  execution  of  a  perilous  and  honor 
able  trust ;  if  you  will  undertake  it,  meet  me  here  at  ten 
o'clock  to  night,  and  I  will  lead  you  to  the  rendezvous  ;  if  not, 
I  will  return  to  those  who  sent  me,  and  report  the  Scottish 
cavalier  as  wanting  in  that  high  valor  of  which  men  speak, 
when  they  repeat  his  name  !" 

"  It  is  a  wild  request,"  answered  the  other,  after  a  short 
pause.  "  How  know  I  but  that  you  train  me  to  some  decoy  ? 
I  have  foes  enough  to  make  it  like,  I  trow.  What  if  I  bring  a 
partner  ?" 

"  It  is  impossible  ;  alone  you  must  undertake  the  feat,  or 
undertake  it  not  at  all.  But  hold,  I  had  a  token  for  your 
ear — 'The  sword  is  the  most  certain  spur' — know  you  the 
phrase  ?" 

"  As  arguing  myself,  known;  but  whether  by  a  friend,  or  by 
a  foe,  your  phrase  says  nothing.  Nay,  be  it  as  it  may,  I  have 


284  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

stood  some  risks  before,  and  I  will  bide  the  blast  even  now ! 
At  ten  o'clock,  I  will  be  at  the  tryst.     Till  then — " 

"  Adieu,"  returned  the  other,  and  vanished  among  the  shrub 
bery  before  the  Scot  could  have  prevented  him,  if  he  had  been 
so  minded.  But  such  was  not  his  intention  ;  his  mind  had 
been  gratified  by  the  singularity,  no  less  than  surprised  by  the 
boldness  of  the  request.  Naturally  brave  almost  to  rashness, 
banished  from  his  native  land  for  political  causes,  and  without 
the  means  of  providing  for  his  wants,  much  less  of  supporting 
the  appearances  demanded  by  his  rank,  he  eagerly  looked  for 
ward  to  any  opportunity  of  raising  himself  to  distinction,  per 
haps,  even  to  affluence  in  his  adopted  country ;  and,  with  his 
thoughts  in  such  a  channel  as  this,  it  was  not  probable  that  a  • 
trivial  or  imaginary  danger  should  deter  him  from  an  enter 
prise  in  which  much  might  be  gained  ;  while,  on  the  contrary, 
nothing  could  be  lost,  but  that  which  he  had  long  ceased  to 
value  at  an  extravagant  price,  an  unhappy  life.  The  last  stroke 
of  the  appointed  hour  was  still  ringing  in  the  air,  when  the 
tall  soldier  stood  alone  at  the  trysting  place  ;  his  dress  was  in 
nowise  altered,  save  by  the  addition  of  a  large  cloak  of  dark 
materials,  worn  evidently  for  concealment,  rather  than  for 
warmth  ;  but,  fearless  as  he  was,  he  yet  had  taken  the  precau 
tion  of  furnishing  his  belt  with  a  pair  of  smaller  pistols  then  re 
cently  introduced.  Not  long  did  he  remain  alone,  for  scarcely 
had  he  reached  the  spot  where  his  mysterious  guide  had  left 
him,  ere  he  again  joined  him  from  the  self-same  shrubbery 
wherein  he  had  then  disappeared.  Without  a  moment's  delay, 
the  messenger  led  him  forward,  with  a  whispered  caution  to 
say  nothing,  whosoever  he  might  see  ;  after  a  few  minutes 
walking,  he  reached  a  portal  in  a  high  and  richly  ornamented 
wall,  and  knocked  lightly  on  the  door,  which  was  instantly  un 
latched  by  a  sentinel  whom,  at  first  sight,  the  Scotsman  knew 
for  one  of  the  chosen  guards  who  waited  round  the  person  of 


THE    ROYAL    INTERVIEW.  285 

the  sovereign.  Sheathed  in  armor  richly  inlaid  with  gold,  his 
harquebus,  with  its  match  kindled,  on  his  arm,  it  would  have 
been  impossible  to  pass  the  guard  without  a  struggle,  which 
must  have  alarmed  a  bbdy  of  his  comrades  who  lay  wrapped 
in  their  long  mantles  on  the  pavement,  or  played  at  games  of 
chance  by  the  pale  glimmer  of  a  single  lamp  ;  a  ring,  as  it  ap 
peared  to  the  silent  but  watchful  Scot,  was  exhibited,  and  the 
mercenary  threw  his  weapon  forward  in  a  low  salute,  and  mo 
tioned  them  in  silence  to  proceed.  In  the  deepest  gloom  they 
passed  through  court  and  corridor  ;  uninterrupted  by  the  nu 
merous  sentinels  whom  they  encountered,  ascended  winding 
staircases  ;  and,  without  meeting  a  single  usher  or  attendant 
in  apartments  of  almost  oriental  splendor,  paused  at  a  tapestried 
door,  which  opened  from  the  wall  of  a  v  long  gallery  so  secretly 
that  it  must  have  escaped  the  eye  of  the  most  keen  observer. 
Here  again  the  courtier  touched,  rather  than  struck,  the  panel 
thrice  at  measured  intervals,  and  a  female  voice  of  singular  and 
imperious  depth, .  commanded  them  to  enter.  The  brilliant 
glare  of  light  which  filled  the  small  apartment  had  well-nigh 
dazzled  the  bewildered  stranger  ;  yet  there  was  enough  in  the 
commanding  mien  of  Catharine,  and  the  youthful  king  who 
sat  beside  her,  although  no  royal  pomp  was  there,  to  tell  him 
that  he  Was  in  the  presence  of  the  mightiest,  the  most  dreaded 
sovereigns  of  Europe  ;  dropping  his  mantle,  and  his  bonnet  to 
the  floor,  he  bent  his  knee,  and,  instantly  recovering  his  erect 
carriage,  stood  reverent  but  unabashed.  Tempering  her  stern 
features  with  a  smile  of  wonderful  sweetness,  and  assuming 
an  air  of  easy  condescension,  which  not  her  niece  —  the  lovely 
Mary  of  Scotland  —  could  have  worn  with  more  becoming 
grace,  the  queen  addressed  him  : — 

"  We  have  summoned  to  our  presence,  if  we  err  not,  one  of 
the  truest  and  most  faithful  servants  of  our  well-beloved  niece 
of  Scotland.  Although  the  queen  of  France  has  not  yet  recog- 


286  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

nised  the  person,  believe  not,  sir,  that  Catharine  de  Medicis  is 
unacquainted  with  the  merits  of  the  sieur  Hamilton." 

Another  inclination,  and  the  color  which  mounted  to  his 
very  brow  at  this  most  flattering,  though  private  testimony, 
testified  his  respect  and  gratitude  ;  yet  as  the  speech  of  Cath 
arine  needed  no  reply,  though  inwardly  marvelling  to  what  all 
this  might  tend,  the  knight  of  Bothwelhaugh,  for  he  it  was  who 
stood  in  that  high  presence,  saw  no  cause  for  breaking  silence. 

"  Speak,  sir,"  pursued  the  queen ;  "  have  we  been  misin 
formed,  or  do  we  see  before  us  the  most  unswerving,  and  the 
latest  follower  of  the  injured  Mary  ?'' 

"  So  please  your  grace,"  was  Hamilton's  reply  ;  "  so  long  as 
sword  was  drawn,  or  charger  spurred  in  my  unhappy  mistress' 
cause,  so  long  was  I  in  the  field !  but  how  I  can  lay  claim  to 
praise  as  being  the  last,  or  truest  of  her  followers,  I  know  not. 
Hundreds  fell  at  the  red  field  of  Langside,  as  brave  and  better 
warriors  than  I  ;  scores  have  since  sealed  their  faith  in  blood 
upon  the  scaffold,  and  thousands  of  true  hearts  yet  beat  in 
Scotland  ;  more  faithful  never  thrilled  to  the  trumpet's  sound  ; 
thousands  that  followed  her,  and  fought  for  her,  that  watched, 
and  fasted,  and  bled  for  her." 

"  But  that  failed  to  avenge  her,"  interrupted  Catharine  ;  and 
for  years  afterward  did  those  words  ring  in  the  soldier's  ears 
with  unforgotten  fearfulness  ;  for  never  had  he  deemed  such 
fiendish  sounds  of  exultation  could  proceed  from  human  lips, 
much  less  from  woman's.  "  Art  not  thou  the  slayer  of  the 
base-born  slave,  that  was  the  master-spirit  of  her  enemies  ? 
Art  not  thou  he  whose  name  shall  go  down  to  posterity  with 
those  of  David,  and  of  Jael,  and  of  Judith,  and  of  all  those  who 
have  smitten  the  persecutors  of  the  church  of  God  ?  Art  thou 
not  he  whom  princes  shall  delight  to  honor,  whom  the  Holy 
Father  of  our  faith  himself  hast  pronounced  blessed  ?  Art  not 
thou  the  avenger  of  Mary,  the  killer  of  the  heretic  Murray  ?" 


ROYAL    FAVORS.  287 

"  Soh  !  sits  the  wind  there,"  thought  the  astonished  Hamil 
ton,  as  he  coolly  replied:  "He  was  the  enemy  of  my  royal, 
my  most  unhappy  mistress,  and  for  that  I  warred  with  him  a 
Voutrance!  —  the  persecutor  of  the  faithful,  and  for  that  I 
cursed  him  !  —  the  murderer  of  my  wife,  and  for  that,  and  that 
alone,  I  slew  him." 

"  Well  didst  thou  do,  and  faithfully !"  cried  the  queen ; 
"  adherents  such  as  thee  it  is  the  pleasure,  no  less  than  the 
pride,  of  the.  house  of  Guise  to  honor  and  reward." 

"  Sieur  of  Hamilton,"  continued  Charles,  apt  pupil  of  his 
demonical  guardian,  "  earthly  honors  are  but  vain  rewards  to 
men  like  thee  !  Yet  wear  this  sword  as  a  token  of  gratitude 
due  from  the  king  of  France  to  the  avenger  of  his  cousin  ;  if 
thou  art  inclined  to  wield  it  in  the  cause  of  him  who  offers  it, 
I  hold  a  blank  commission  to  a  high  office  in  our  army — the 
command  of  our  guard  !  Shall  I  insert  the  name  of  Hamilton  !" 

"  Honors  like  these,  your  majesty — "  he  was  commencing, 
when  he  was  again  cut  short  by  the  queen. 

"  Are  insufficient,  we  are  well  aware,  when  weighed  against 
thy  merits.  Accept  them,  notwithstanding,  as  an  earnest  of 
greater  gifts  to  come.  Serve  but  the  heads  of  the  house  of 
Guise,  as  thou  hast  served  its  scions,  and  the  truncheon  of  the 
inarechal  hereafter  may  be  thine.  No  thanks,  sir  !  actions  are 
the  only  thanks  that  we  require !  and  now,  farewell !  we  will 
speak  further  with  our  officer  to  morrow !" 

Accustomed,  long  before,  to  the  etiquette  of  courts,  Hamil 
ton  received  the  gift  tipon  his  knee,  kissed  the  bright  blade, 
and  with  a  profound  inclination  retreated  without  turning  to 
the  door,  bowed  a  second  time  even  lower  than  before,  and 
left  the  presence  !  Scarcely,  however,  had  he  made  three 
steps,  ere  he  was  recalled  by  the  voice  of  Catharine  herself. 
"  Ha !  now  shall  I  know  the  price  which  I  must  pay  for  this 
rich  gewgaw  ;  methought  such  gilded  baits  must  point  to  future 


288  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

service,  rather  than  to  past  good  offices  ;"  the  half-formed 
words  died  on  his  lips  as  the  vivid  thought  flashed  through  his 
brain,  yet  not  a  sound  was  heard  ;  he  stood  in  calm  attention 
listening  to  the  words  of  the  tempter. 

"  We  have  bethought  us,  sir,"  said  Catharine,  in  a  low, 
stern  whisper,  "  we  have  bethought  us  of  a  service  of  most 
high  importance,  wherewith  it  is  our  will  that  thou  shouldst 
commence  thy  duties,  and  that,  too,  with  the  dawn  !  It  has 
something  of  danger  ;  but  we  know  to  whom  we  speak !  much 
of  honor,  and  therefore  we  rejoice  in  offering  it  to  thee  !  If 
successful,  to-morrow's  eve  shall  see  our  champion  marechal 
of  France.  Dost  thou  accept  the  trust  ?" 

"  Danger,  so  please  your  highness,"  replied  the  wary 
soldier,  "danger  is  the  very  soul  of  honor;  and  for  honor  alone 
I  live.  What  are  the  commands  of  your  majesty  ?" 

Confident  that  her  offer  was  understood  and  accepted,  the 
same  hateful  gleam  of  triumph  flashed  across  her  withered 
features  as  before,  and  the  same  note  of  exultation  marked  her 
words.  "Thou  knowest,  doubtless,  Caspar  de  Coligni — the 
admiral  —  the  heretic  —  the  sword  and  buckler  of  the  accursed 
Huguenots  !" 

"  As  a  brave  soldier,  and  a  consummate  leader,  I  do  know 
the  man.  Pity  but  he  were  faithful,  as  he  is  trusty  and  expe 
rienced  !  What  is  your  grace's  will  concerning  this  De  Co 
ligni?" 

"  Qu'il  meurt !" 

"  Give  me  the  means  to  bring  the  matter  to  an  issue,  and  I 
will  do  my  devoir.  But  how  may  I  find  cause  of  quarrel  with 
one  so  high  as  Coligni  ?  Bring  me  to  the  admiral,  and  let 
him  take  every  advantage  of  place  and  arms,  I  pledge  your 
majesty  my  word,  to-morrow  night  shall  not  find  him  among 
the  living." 

"  And  thinkst  thou,"  she  replied  with  a  bitter  laugh,  "  thinkst 


A    FALSE    RECKONING.  289 

thou  we  reck  so  little  of  a' faithful  servant's  safety  as  to  expose 
him  to  a  desperate  conflict  with  a  warrior  such  as  him  concern 
ing  whom  we  speak  ?  As  Murray  fell,  so  fall  De  Coligni !" 

"  Not  by  the  hand  of  Hamilton,"  was  the  calm,  but  resolute 
answer.  "  My  life  your  majesty  may  command  even  as  your 
own ;  I  reck  not  of  it!  but  mine  honor  is  in  mine  own  keep 
ing  !  Mine  own  private  quarrel  have  I  avenged,  as  best  I 
might ;  but  neither  am  I  a  mercenary  stabber  to  slay  men  in 
the  dark,  who  have  done  me  no  wrong ;  nor  is  a  Scottish  gen 
tleman  wont  to  take  gold  for  blood-shedding.  I  fear  me  I  have 
misapprehended  the  terms  on  which  I  am  to  serve  your  grace ; 
most  gladly,  and  most  gratefully,  did  I  receive  these  tokens  of 
your  majesty's  approbation,  as  honors  conferred  for  honorable 
service  in  the  field.  If,  however,  they  were  given  either  as  a 
price  for  the  blood  of  Murray,  or  as  wages  to  be  redeemed  by 
future  murder,  humbly,  but  at  the  same  time  firmly,  do  I  de 
cline  your  bounty !" 

"  Why,  thou  most  scrupulous  of  cut-throats !"  exclaimed 
the  youthful  king,  whose  iron  heart  was  utterly  immovable  by 
any  touch  of  merciful  or  honorable  feeling.  "  Dost  thou,  thou 
who  didst  mark  thy  man  long  months  before  the  deed,  didst 
dog  him  to  destruction  as  your  own  northern  hound  hangs  on 
the  master-stag,  didst  butcher  him  at  an  unmanly  vantage, 
dost  thou  pretend  to  round  high  periods  about  honor  ?  Honor 
in  a  common  stabber!  —  ha!  ha!  ha!"  and  he  laughed  deri 
sively  at  his  own  false  and  disgraceful  speech. 

"  It  is  because  I  am  no  common  stabber,"  returned  the  noble 
Scot,  "  that  I  refuse  your  wages,  as  I  loath  the  office,  and  de 
spise  the  character  which  you  would  fix  upon  a  gentleman  of 
ancient  family,  and  unblemished  reputation  !  My  lord,  I  slew 
yon  base-born  tyrant,  even  as  I  would  slay  your  highness, 
should  you  give  me  cause.  Had  he  been  mine  inferior,  a  short 
shrift,  and  a  shorter  cord,  had  paid  the  debt  I  owed  him ! 

13 


290  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

mine  equal,  the  good  sword  that  never  failed  its  master,  had 
avenged  her  to  whom  alone  that  master's  faith  was  plighted ! 
He  was,  so  word  it  if  you  will,  my  superior  !  Superior  not  in 
arms,  or  strength,  or  virtue  ;  not  in  the  greatness  of  nature's 
giving,  but  in  craft,  and  policy,  and  all  the  pompous  baubles 
that  make  fools  tremble  ;  one  path  was  open  to  my  vengeance, 
and  one  only !  I  took  it !  I  would  have  taken  the  arch-fiend 
himself  to  be  my  counsellor,  so  he  had  promised  vengeance ! 
Show  me  the  man  that  dares  to  injure  Hamilton,  and  Ham 
ilton  will  slay  him :  honorably,  if  it  may  be,  and  openly ;  but, 
in  all  cases,  slay  him.  For  this  matter,  sire,  I  have  no  license 
from  my  country  to  commit  murders  here  in  France  ;  mine 
own  just  quarrel  I  have  avenged  as  best  I  might ;  but  not  for 
price,  or  prayer,  will  I  avenge  the  guard  of  another,  be  that 
other' prince  or  peasant !  Farewell,  your  highness,  and  when  • 
you  next  would  buy  men's  blood,  deal  not  with  Scottish  nobles  ! 
your  grace  has  Spaniards  and  Italians  enough  round  your  per 
son  who  will  do  your  bidding,  without  imposing  tasks  on  Scot 
tish  men,  which  it  bents  not  them  to  execute,  nor  you  to  order  ! 
Has  your  grace  any  services  to  ask  of  Hamilton,  which  he 
may  perform  with  an  unsullied  hand,  your  word  shall  be  his 
law  !  Till  then,  farewell !" 

He  laid  the  jewelled  sword  and  the  broad  parchment  on  the 
board,  and  with  another  inclination  of  respect,  slowly  and 
steadily  retreated. 

«  Bethink  thee,  sir,''  cried  the  fierce  queen,  goaded  almost 
to  madness  by  the  disappointment,  and  by  the  taunts  of  the  in 
dignant  warrior,  not  the  less  galling  that  they  were  veiled  be 
neath  the  thin  garb  of  respect—"  bethink  thee  !  it  is  perilous, 
even  to  a  proverb,  to  be  the  repository  of  royal  secrets !  how 
know  we  but  thou  mayest  sell  thine  information  to  De  Co- 

ligni  7" 

«'  In  that  I  would  not  sell  his  blood  to  thee  P  was  the  stern 


PROSPECTIVE    REVENGE.  291 

answer.  "  If  peril  be  incurred, 'twill  not  be  the  first  time 
peril  and  I  have  been  acquainted — nor  yet,  I  deem,  the  last." 
Without  another  syllable  he  strode  from  the  presence-chamber, 
with  a  louder  step,  and  firmer  port,  than  oft  was  heard  or  seen 
in  those  accursed  walls.  The  usher,  who  had  introduced  him, 
deeming  his  sovereign's  will  completed,  led  him  forth  as  he 
had  entered,  in  silence,  and  ere  the  guilty  pair  had  roused 
themselves  from  their  astonishment,  Hamilton  was  beyond  the 
precincts  of  the  palace.  An  hour  had  scarcely  passed  before 
the  messenger  was  again  summoned  to  wait  the  monarch's  bid 
ding.  "  De  Crespigny,"  he  said,  "  take  three  of  the  best 
blades  of  our  Italian  guard,  dog  that  audacious  Scot,  and,  be 
he  at  the  board,  or  in  the  bed  —  at  the  hearth,  or  in  the  sanctu 
ary/' — he  paused,  tapped  the  hilt  of  his  poniard  with  a  smile 
of  gloomy  meaning,  and  waved  his  hand  toward  the  door — 
"  let  his  head  be  at  my  feet  before  to-morrow's  dawn,  or  look 
well  to  thine  own !  —  Away  !" 


292  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 


PART     IV. 

But  I  have  none.     The  king-becoming  graces, 

As  justice,  verity,  temperance,  stableness, 

Bounty,  perseverance,  mercy,  lowliness, 

Devotion,  patience,  courage,  fortitude, 

I  have  no  relish  of  them;  but  abound 

In  the  division  of  each  several  crime, 

Acting  it  many  ways.     Nay,  had  I  power,  I  should 

Pour  the  sweet  milk  of  concord  into  hell, 

Uproar  the  universal  peace,  confound 

All  unity  on  earth.  MACBETH,  Act  IV.,  Sc.  3. 

THE  morning  of  that  fatal  day  had  arrived,  the  horror  and 
atrocity  of  which  may  never  be  forgotten  or  forgiven,  until  the 
records  of  humanity  itself  shall  pass  away.  That  day,  which, 
intended  as  it  was  by  the  infernal  policy  of  France  to  strike  a 
death-blow  to  the  reformed  religion  throughout  the  world,  did 
more  to  unite,  to  strengthen,  and  finally  to  establish  the  ascen 
dency  of  that  religion,  than  could  have  been  established  by 
the  arms  of  its  champions,  or  the  arguments  of  its  professors, 
in  centuries  of  unopposed  prosperity  ;  as  though  the  fiend  who 
suggested  the  counsel  had  deserted  his  pupils  in  very  derision 
of  their  blind  iniquity.  Nor  in  truth  was  the  hallucination  of 
the  confiding  Huguenots  less  unaccountable  than  the  unearthly 
wickedness  of  their  opponents.  It  would  seem  that  their  eyes 
had  been  so  completely  sealed  up,  and  their  suspicions  so 
obliterated  by  the  marriage  of  the  youthful  monarch  of  Navarre 
with  the  sister  of  the  faithless  Charles,  that  no  proof,  however 
flagrant,  of  the  meditated  treason  could  awake  them  from  their 
slumbers.  Nor,  when  De  Coligni  was  well-nigh  assassinated 


THE    FIRST   ACT.  293 

by  the  aim  of  an  enemy,*  less  scrupulous  than  the  knight  of 
Bothwelhaugh,  could  they  be  aroused,  either  by  the  crime  it 
self,  or  by  the  eloquence  which  it  called  forth  from  the  Vidame 
of  Chartres,  to  see  in  this  attempt  "  the  first  act  of  an  hideous 
tragedy. "f  Never  were  the  extraordinary  talents  of  the  queen- 
mother  more  evident,  or  more  successful,  than  in  the  series  of 
intrigues,  by  which  the  protestant  leaders  were  amused,  until 
the  scheme  for  their  destruction  was  matured ;  and  it  is  most 
remarkable  that  the  very  measures  by  which  she  lulled  their 
fears  to  rest,  were  those  which  laid  them  most  completely  at 
the  mercy  of  their  persecutors.  It  was  recommended  by 
Charles  that  the  principal  gentlemen  of  the  party  should  take 
up  their  quarters  around  the  lodging  of  the  wounded  admiral, 
avowedly  that  they  might  be  ever  at  hand  to  protect  him  from 
the  machinations  of  his  foes,  but  in  truth  that  being  thus  col 
lected  into  one  body  they  might  be  butchered  at  ease  without 
a  hope  of  resistance,  or  a  possibility  of  escape.  A  guard  of 
honor  was  appointed  from  the  mus.queteers  of  the  royal  house 
hold  to  watch  over  the  safety  of  De  Coligni,  but  this  very  guard 
was  under  the  command  of  Cosseins,  his  most  deadly  enemy ; 
and  lastly,  with  unparalleled  baseness,  Charles  and  his  fiendish 
mother  actually  paid  a  visit  of  condolence  at  the  bedside  of 
the  man,  whom  they  had  doomed  to  a  miserable  and  disgrace 
ful  end. 

All  was  at  length  prepared ;  the  duke  of  Guise  selected,  as 


*  Louviers-Maurevel,  who,  having  been  educated  as  a  page  in  the 
family  of  Guise,  had  early  given  indications  of  an  evil  disposition,  had 
rendered  himself  infamously  notorious  by  the  murder  of  a  courtier  in  re 
venge  for  some  trivial  punishment,  and  by  that  of  the  noble  Mouy,  < 
governor  of  Niort,  at  the  instigation,  and  for  the  wages  of  the  catholic 
leaders.  In  consequence  of  this  latter  feat  he  was  again  employed  by 
the  same  family  to  shoot  the  celebrated  admiral,  which  deed  he,  however, 
failed  to  accomplish. — Mezeray,  xi.,  119,  209. 

f  Mezeray,  xi.  219. 


294  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHATJGH. 

the  chief  most  fitted  for  the  conduct  of  the  massacre  ;  the  cap 
tains  of  the  Swiss  companies  and  the  Italian  condottieri  were 
harangued  and  loaded  with  reward  ;  the  dizeniers  of  the  burgher 
guards  were  privately  instructed  to  arm  their  men  in  all 
quarters  of  the  city,  to  assume,  as  distinctive  ensigns,  a  white 
cross  in  their  hats,  and  white  scarfs  on  their  arms,  to  kindle 
flambeaux  in  every  window,  and  when  the  palace-clock  should 
sound,  as  it  was  wont  to  do,  at  break  of  day— to  fall  on  and 
leave  no  Huguenot  alive  within  the  walls  of  Paris.     Nor  was 
this  all ;  in  every  town  throughout  the.  realm,  like  orders  had 
been  despatched  by  certain  hands  to  all  the  catholic  governors, 
so  tfiat  the  striking  of  that  bell  in  the  metropolis,  should  be 
repeated  from  every  tower  in  France  at  the  same  hour,  a  signal 
for  simultaneous  massacre,  a  knell  for  thousands  and  tens  of 
thousands  of  her  bravest  and  her  best.     One  circumstance, 
however,  had  occurred,  which  in  no  slight  degree  embarrassed 
the  proceedings  of  the  royal  executioners,  and  it  needed  all 
the   influence  of  Catharine  to  hold  her  weaker,  yet  no  less 
wicked,  son  firm  to  his  resolution. 

The, whole  day  succeeding  to  their  interview  with  Hamilton 
had  been  spent  by  that  bad  pair  in   expectation   amounting 
almost  to  agony.     In  obedience  to  the  mandate  of  his  master, 
De  Crespigny  had  departed  with  three  ruffians  of  the  guard,  to 
seal  the  tongue  of  Bothwelhaugh  for  ever.     The  gates  of  Paris 
had  been  closed,  and  the  escape  of  the  victim  seemed  impos 
sible,  nor  could  it  be  imagined  for  a  moment  that  one  unsup 
ported  foreigner  could   successfully  resist  the   arms   of  four 
assailants  selected  for  their  skill,  no  less  than  for  their  ferocity. 
•  Still,  hour  after  hour  crept  along,  and  no  tidings  arrived  of  the 
success  or  failure  of  the  enterprise,  till  on  the  very  morning 
of  the  intended  massacre,  the  stiff  and  mangled  corpses  of  all 
the  four  were   discovered  among  the  shrubbery  of  the  royal 
gardens,  bearing  fearful  marks,  on  head  and  trunk,  of  the  tre- 


FRUSTRATED  VENGEANCE.  295 

mendous  weapon  which  hd*d  laid  them  low.  That  they  had 
perished  by  the  hand  of  Hamilton  was  evident,  but  to  the 
means  by  which  one  man  had  defeated  and  slain  four  antago 
nists,  each  at  the  least  his  equal  in  strength,  no  clew  could  be 
discovered ;  nor  could  the  most  diligent  inq^ries  throw  any 
light  upon  the  subsequent  movements  or  the  present  residence 
of  the  victor.  Indeed  from  the  moment  of  his  dismissal  from 
the  king's  apartment,  no  one  appeared  to  have  seen  or  heard 
aught  of  an  individual  far  too  remarkable  both  in  personal  ap 
pearance  and  in  dress  to  have  passed  unnoticed  amid  the  idlers 
of  the  metropolis.  It  was,  nevertheless,  certain  from  the  de 
meanor  of  De  Coligni,  and  of  his  unsuspecting  friends,  that, 
hitherto  at  least,  no  discovery  of  their  meditated  destruction  had 
occurred ;  and  although  probable  that  the  indignant  Scot,  on 
finding  himself  singled  out  for  death  by  his  frustrated  employ 
ers,  should  have  revealed  the  whole  conspiracy,  it  was  yet 
possible  that  the  same  high-minded,  though  mistaken  spirit, 
which  had  urged  him  to  avenge  himself  on  his  own  personal 
oppressor,  while  neither  fear  nor  favor  could  induce  him  to 
play  the  hireling  stabber's  part,  might  .now  prevail  on  him  to 
conceal  that  villany,  however  he  might^bhor  and  shrink  from 
its  fulfilment,  which  had  been  imparted  to  him  beneath  the  seal 
of  private  confidence. 

The  night  drew  nigh,  and  with  the  darkness  of  the  heavens 
a  heavier  gloom  fell  on  the  spirit  of  the  king ;  an  eager,  fret 
ful  restlessness  took  place  of  his  unwonted  dignity — his  eyes 
glared  from  their  hollow  sockets  with  a  wild  expression  of 
misery,  and  the  changing  flush  which  now  crimsoned  his  fea 
tures,  now  left  them  as  sallow  as  the  lineaments  of  a  corpse, 
gave  awful  tokens  of  a  perturbed  soul.  Not  an  instant  did  he 
remain  at  rest,  one  moment  flinging  himself  violently  on  a  seat, 
then  striding  with  unequal  and  agitated  steps  across  the  floor, 
like  the  chafed  hyena  in  its  den.  Now  swearing  the  annihi- 


296  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

lation  of  the  Huguenots  with  feafful  blasphemies,  now  accu 
sing  his  advisers,  and  even  his  dreaded  mother  herself  of  im 
pious  superstition  and  remorseless  frenzy.  "  It  is  ye,"  he 
said,  "  who  have  driven  me  to  this  abyss  of  guilt !  It  is  ye 
who  reap  the  profits  of  the  sin!  but  it  is  I,  miserable  //  that 
shall  be  blasted  through  endless  ages  by  the  hatred  of  men, 
and  perhaps  by  the  wrath  of  God  ;" — and  he  sunk  in  an  agony 
of  tears  upon  the  couch,  which  rocked  beneath  the  violence 
of  his  convulsive  anguish. 

"  Go  to  !"  cried  Catharine  with  undissembled  rage  — "  Go  to  ! 
thou  coward-boy,  talk  not  to  me  of  conscience  and  condemna 
tion  !  Thinkest  thou  to  hide  from  me  who  have  watched  it 
from  your  earliest  years,  the  secrets  of  that  craven  heart.  'Tis 
not  the  wrath  of  God — 'tis  riot  the  hatred  of  posterity  that 
thou  dost  fear.  Say  rather  that  thou  dost  tremble  at  the  de 
spair  of  thine  enemies,  that  thou  dost  shrink  in  terror — base 
terror!  —  from  one  weak,  aged,  wounded  mortal!  —  Out,  out 
upon  thee,  for  a  miserable  dastard !  Nay,  rather  out  upon  my 
self,  that  I  have  borne  a  coward  to  the  house  of  Medicis !'' 

"  Darest  thou,"  shouted  the  boy,  springing  from  his  seat, 
and  confronting  her  with  equal  fury — "darest  thou  say  this  to 
me?" 

"  All  men  will  dare  do  so,"  she  answered  scornfully.  "  All 
men  !  God's-head,  all  women,  will  dare  to  call  thee  coward ! 
will,  pray  to  the  saints,  in  their  extremity,  that  they  may  give 
birth  to  idiots,  monsters,  anything — but  such  as  thee  !" 

"  Mother,"  he  cried,  gnashing  his  teeth  with  rage,  and  play 
ing  with  his  poniard's  hilt,  "  peace  !  peace  !  or  by  Him  who 
made  me,  you  shall  rue  this  hour.  —  Tremble !" 

"  Coward !  poltroon !  wouldst  thou  bare  thy  weapon  on  a 
woman  —  and  that  woman,  one  who  fears  it  less  than  thee  !  — 
which  for  thy  life  thou  durst  not  handle  in  the  presence  of  De 
Coligni.  Tremble?  —  thinkest  thou  that  I  could  tremble,  if  I 


THE    ROYAL    CONCLAVE.  297 

would  ;  thinkest  thou  that  I,  the  destined  champion  of  the  Faith 
—  that  I,  the  savior  of  the  holy  Church  —  I,  who  was  preor 
dained,  before  mine  eyes  beheld  the  day,  to  quench  the  light 
of  heresy  in  blood  —  that  I,  who^  if  thou  darest  to  hesitate, 
will  take  the  guidance  of  this  matter  on  myself,  and  win  that 
glory  here,  that  immortality  hereafter,  the  brilliancy  of  which 
is  more  resplendent  than  thy  dazzled  eyes  can  bear  to  look 
upon,  thy  vacillating  mind  to  comprehend  —  that  /  know  how 
to  tremble !" 

Her  vehemence  prevailed  !  The  current  of  his  thoughts  was 
directed  into  another  channel,  and  it  was  now  with  no  small  dif 
ficulty  that  she  prevailed  on  him  to  await  the  result  of  the  execu 
tions  in  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre,  rather  than  to  sheath  him 
self  in  steel,  and  sally  forth  at  the  head  of  the  murderers,  to  prove 
his  valor,  and  to  glut  his  newly-awakened  thirst  for  blood!  — 
Yet,  though  she  had  thus  confidently  spoken  of  the  glory,  and 
the  undoubted  success  of  the  conspiracy,  in  her  own  secret 
soul  she  shuddered! — not  with  fear,  not  with  remorse,  but 
with  devouring  care,  with  all-engrossing  agitation.  Every 
trivial  sound  that  echoed  through  the  royal  corridors,  every 
distant  peal  of  voices  from  the  street,  even  the  stealthy  footstep  of 
the  attendant-courtiers,  or  the  sudden  shutting  of  a  door,  struck 
on  her  guilty  ear  with  a  power  hardly  exceeded  by  that  of  the 
most  appalling  thunder.  The  glittering  board  was  spread,  the 
choicest  viands  served  in  vessels  of  gold,  the  richest  vintages 
of  Auxerre  and  Champaigne,  flowers,  and  fruits,  and  perfumes, 
all  that  could  tempt  the  eye,  or  minister  to  the  gratification  of 
the  senses,  were  set  before  the  royal  conclave.  The  goblets 
were  filled  and  drained,  the  jest  passed  round,  and  smiles, 
human  smiles,  illuminated  the  features  of  those,  who  were 
plotting  deeds  worthy  the  arch-fiend  himself.  The  boy-king 
and  his  brother,  half-maddened  by  the  excitement  of  suspense, 
the  delirium  of  meditated  guilt,  and  the  fiercer  stimulus  of 

13* 


298  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

wine,  could  scarce  refrain  from  bursting  into  open  fury;  while 
their  craftier  parent,  even  as  she  yielded  to  the  intoxication  of 
the  moment,  never  for  an  instant  forgot  the  dreadful  responsi 
bility  which  claimed  the  fullest  exercise  of  her  keen  energies ; 
and,  although  she  lent  herself  entirely  to  the  accomplishment 
of  her  present  object  —  the  winding  up  of  her  son's  vacillating 
courage  to  its  utmost  pitch  —  she  had  yet  an  ear  for  every  re 
mote  murmur,  an  eye  for  every  varying  expression  that  might 
flit  across  the  brow  of  page  or  chamberlain ;  an  almost 
superhuman  readiness  of  mind  that  would  have  defied  the  most 
critical  emergency  to  find  it  unprovided  with  some  apt  ex 
pedient. 

Stroke  after  stroke  the  heavy  bells  rang  midnight,  and  it 
seemed,  to  each  of  those  excited  minds,  as  though  an  age 
elapsed  between  each  fast-repeated  clang.  Another  hour  had 
yet  its  course  to  run,  before  those  matins,  whose  name  shall 
never  be  spoken  without  abhorrence,  while  the  world  endures, 
should  sound  the  condemnation  of  a  people.  Another  hour 
had  yet  to  creep,  or  to  career  above  their  heads,  before  ten 
thousand  sleepers  should  be  awakened — never  to  sleep  £gain  ! 
The  flowers  had  lost  their  fragrance — the  wine  palled  on 
their  deadened  palates  —  the  lights,  reflected  by  a  hundred 
plates  of  crystal,  seemed  but  to  render  darkness  visible.  Yet 
who  could  calmly  sit  and  count  the  minutes  that  were  to  mar- 
shall  in  that  morning  of  indiscriminate  slaughter,  who  could 
endure  to  listen  to  the  monotonous  ticking  of  that  clock,  the 
earliest  chimes  of  which  were  to  be  answered  by  the  groans 
of  dying  myriads  ?" 

"  Come !"  at  length  exclaimed  the  callous  mother,  "  it  is 
tedious  tarrying  here.  It  will  be  better  in  the  tennis-court 
than  here  !  Thence  we  can  mark  the  progress  of  the  execu 
tion  !" — and  rising  from  her  seat,  she  led  the  way,  her  features 
dressed  in  smiles,  and  her  eyes  beaming  with  exultation,  to 


THE    TENNIS-COURT.  299 

the  hall  of  exercise.  Few  moments  had  elapsed  before  the 
clatter  of  the  rackets,  the  lively  bouncing  of  the  balls,  and  the 
loud  voices  of  the  antagonists,  announced  that  heart  and  spirit 
were  engrossed  in  the  excitement  of  the  game.  Oaths,  shouts 
of  laughter,  proffered  bets,  and  notes  of  sportive  triumph,  rang 
from  the  tongues,  that,  scarce  an  hour  ago,  had  decided  on  the 
doom  of  the  unsuspecting  innocents  ;  and  that,  before  another 
should  arrive,  would  lend  their  tones  to  swell  the  fearful  cry 
of  "Kill!  kill!"  — "Death  to  the  Huguenots  !"— "  Kill  and 
spare  not !" 

The  noble  gallery,  which  had  been  fitted,  according  to  the 
fashion  of  the  day,  for  the  game  of  tennis,  overlooked,  with  its 
tall  netted  casements,  the  principal  street  of  Paris,  even  at  that 
early  age  a  wide  and  beautiful  parade.  The  cool  breeze  from  the 
river  swept  refreshingly  around  their  feverish  brows,  but  waft 
ed  not  a  sound  to  their  ears  :  although  they  well  knew  that  the 
guards  must  be  already  at  their  posts,  crouching  like  tigers, 
that  their  spring  might  be  unerringly  destructive.  Tranquil, 
however,  as  it  appeared,  the  city  glowed  with  almost  noonday 
light,  for  every  window  was  illuminated  with  row  above  row 
of  flashing  torches,  and,  at  every  angle  of  the  streets,  huge 
lanterns  swayed  to  and  fro  in  the  fresh  currents  of  the  night- 
wind.  It  was  a  beautiful  scene,  but  at  the  same  time  one 
whose  beauty  was  of  a  painful  and  unnatural  cast ;  every 
joint  and  moulding  of  the  walls,  nay,  every  crevice  of  the 
pavements,  was  defined,  as  clearly  as  the  outlines  of  a  Flem 
ish  picture  ;  yet  it  seemed  as  if  this  unaccustomed  splendor 
had  been  produced  by  some  enchantment,  and  to  meet  no  mor 
tal  end  ;  for  not  a  human  being  was  to  be  seen  throughout  the 
whole  perspective — not  a  houseless  dog  intruded  on  this 
strange  solitude.  At  an  earlier  period  of  the  night  all  had 
been  dark  and  gloomy,  even  before  the  hum  of  traffic,  or  of 
pleasure,  had  entirely  subsided  ;  but  now,  when  every  place 


300  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

was  silent  and  deserted,  unseen  hands  had  steeped  the  vast 
metropolis  in  lustre,  to  be  witnessed  by  no  admiring  multitudes. 
Long  and  wistfully  did  Catharine  gaze  upon  that  spectacle, 
straining  her  senses,  sharpened  as  they  were  by  the  most 
fearful  expectation,  to  catch  whatever  indication,  sight,  or 
sound,  might  offer  to  the  success  of  the  conspiracy.  At  length, 
as  she  listened,  Charles  —  whose  care-worn  eye  wandered 
ever  and  anon  from  his  deep  gaming  to  his  mother's  counte 
nance —  saw  by  the  momentary  shudder  that  thrilled  her 
stately  form,  and  by  the  rigid  tension  of  her  features,  that  the 
moment  was  at  hand — and  so  in  truth  it  was  !  Even  when 
that  tremor  quivered  through  her  limbs,  the  hammer  hung  sus 
pended  above  the  tocsin-bell.  She  had  beheld  no  vision — 
she  had  heard  no  murmur  to  announce  the  hour — yet  she 
knew  —  she  felt  —  that,  ere  the  breath  which  she  was  then  in 
haling,  should  go  forth,  the  matin  peal  would  sound.  And  it 
did  sound!  Heavily  did  the  first  clang  of  St.  Germain's  a 
1'Auxerre  strike  on  their  bursting  hearts,  but  ere  its  ringing 
cadences  had  died  away,  another,  and  another,  and  another, 
took  up  the  signal  ;  till  at  every  pause  between  their  deafening 
clamor,  the  chimes  of  a  hundred  tocsins  might  be  heard  los 
ing  themselves  in  undistinguished  distance  !  A  single  shot 
broke  through  the  din  of  bells  ;  with  its  sharp  report  a  strag 
gling  volley  followed  —  a  long,  clear,  female  shriek  —  and  then 
the  brutal  riot  of  the  savage  soldiery,  the  shivering  clash  of 
steel,  groans,  prayers,  and  execrations,  were  blent  in  one  ter 
rific  roar  !  If  ever  earthly  scene  might  be  assimilated  justly 
to  the  abode  of  condemned  sinners,  and  tormenting  friends, 
Paris  was  such  on  that  infernal  morning.  No  !  it  is  not  pro 
fanity  to  say  or  to  believe  that  disembodied  demons  exulted  in 
their  prison-houses,  if  they  were  not  permitted  to  revel  in  the 
actual  contemplation  of  Christian  men  converted  into  worse 


MASSACRE    OF    THE    HUGUENOTS.  301 

than  pagan  persecutors  —  of  the  brightest  city  of  Christendom 
presenting  the  appalling  aspect  of  a  universal  hell ! 

"  It  is  done,"  cried  Catharine,  clapping  her  hands  in  furious 
triumph  —  "the  Lord  hath  arisen  and  his  enemies  are  scat 
tered  !" 

"  I  am  at  length  a  king !"  exclaimed  the  boy,  whose  fears 
were  swallowed  up  in  ecstacy  at  the  accomplishment  of  all  his 
machinations  —  "Brave  Guise!  noble  Cosseins  !  Happy  the 
monarch  who  can  trust  to  servants,  such  as  ye  !" 

Before  the  words  had  passed  his  lips,  a  louder,  and  a  nearer, 
burst  of  mingled  cries  showed  that  the  tide  of  carnage  set  to 
ward  the  palace.  Hurling  his  racket  to  the  further  end  of  the 
long  hall,  he  sprang  to  his  mother's  side,  and,  as  he  viewed  the 
massacre  of  his  confiding  subjects,  tossed  his  arms  aloft  with 
an  expression  of  eye  and  lip  that  might  have  well  beseemed  a 
Nero.  First,  a  few  scattered  wretches  rushed  singly,  or  in  groups, 
along  the  lighted  streets  ;  mothers  and  maids  —  stern  men  with 
dauntless  hearts  and  scar-seamed  brows  —  old  grandsires  with 
their  feeble  limbs  and  locks  of  snow  —  and  infants  tottering 
along  in  helpless  terror  !  Then  with  a  sound  like  that  of  the 
spring-tide,  the  thoroughfare  was  choked  by  thousands,  frantic 
with  despair,  hurrying,  they  knew  not  whither,  like  sheep  be 
fore  their  slaughterers.  Behind  them  flashed  the  bloody 
sword  of  Guise  and  his  relentless  satellites  ;  before,  the  gates 
were  closed  ;  above,  around,  on  every  side,  from  every  roof, 
and  every  window  of  the  illuminated  dwellings,  the  volleyed 
shot  hurled  them  in  masses  to  destruction. 

"Quick!  quick!  my  harquebuss  !"  yelled  the  impatient 
Charles,  maddened  by  the  sight  of  blood,  and  thirsting  like  the 
fleshed  wolf  for  his  peculiar  share.  "  Kill !  kill !"  he  shouted 
in  yet  loftier  tones,  as  the  unsparing  duke  dashed  forward, 
crimsoned  from  spur  to  plume  with  Christian  blood,  animating 
the  fanatic  Italians  of  the  guard  and  aiding  the  work  of  slaugh- 


302  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

ter,  with  his  own  polluted  weapon  —  "  Kill !  kill !  —  gallant  de 
Guise  ! — kill !  and  let  none  escape." 

Before  the  windows  of  the  Louvre  was  a  narrow  court, 
fenced  from  the  street  by  a  tall  palisade  of  ornamented  iron 
work  ;  hither,  in  the  first  impulse  of  their  terrors,  had  a  herd 
of  wretches  fled,  as  it  were  to  a  sanctuary  in  the  immediate 
presence  of  their  king  ;  and  here  were  they  confined  between 
the  massive  portals  of  the  palace,  and  the  noble  thoroughfare 
now  crowded  even  to  suffocation  by  an  unresisting  multitude, 
through  which  the  sword  was  slowly  but  implacably  hewing 
itself  a  passage.  Protected  by  the  fretted  railings  from  their 
foes  without,  they  had  vainly  flattered  themselves  that  they 
were  secured  from  immediate  violence,  and  trusted  to  the  prov-. 
erb,  which  has  but  too  frequently  been  found  fallacious  — 
that  "a  king's  face,  gives  grace!" — what  then  must  have 
been  their  agony  when  they  beheld  that  very  countenance,  to 
which  they  looked  for  mercy,  glaring  along  the  levelled  match 
lock,  and  felt  their  miserable  bodies  pierced  by  the  shot  at 
each  discharge,  and  by  the  hand  of  their  legitimate  protector. 

On  that  tremendous  night,  Hamilton,  like  a  thousand  others, 
was  startled  from  sleep,  in  his  secluded  lodging,  by  the  roar 
of  musketry,  and  by  the  howls  of  the  infuriate  murderers  ;  but, 
unlike  the  rest,  be  recognised  at  once  the  sequel  of  that  relent 
less  policy,  to  which  he  had  himself  refused  to  minister.  Du 
ring  the  very  night,  on  which  he  had  been  admitted  to  the 
royal  presence,  on  his  return  homeward  through  the  gardens 
of  the  Louvre,  he  had  been  assaulted  by  the  assassins,  whom, 
from  their  garb  and  arms  he  at  once  distinguished  as  the  agents 
of  the  king ;  by  a  pretended  flight  he  had  succeeded  in  avoid 
ing  their  united  force,  and,  singly  overpowering  each,  had 
escaped  uninjured  to  his  dwelling.  Conscious  that  he  was 
singled  out  by  a  power,  which  it  would  be  no  easy  matter  to 
elude,  and  deeming  that  some  political  convulsion  was  at  hand, 


PROMISCUOUS    SLAUGHTER.  303 

he  had  kept  himself  in  total  retirement,  till  the  hue  and  cry 
should  have  blown  over,  and  till  some  opportunity  might  offer 
for  his  effecting  a  retreat  from  France. 

Springing  from  his  couch  at  the  first  sounds  of  the  massacre, 
he  perceived  at  a  glance  that  all  the  neighboring  casements 
were  lighted  up  as  if  for  some  high  festival,  nor  could  he  for  a 
moment  doubt  but  that  to  be  discovered  unprepared  would  be  a 
signal  for  his  instant  death.  Few  moments  sufficed  to  kindle 
such  a  blaze  as  would  vouch  for  his  privity  to  whatever  plot 
might  be  on  foot,  to  prepare  his  weapons  for  the  crisis,  and  to 
arm  himself  from  head  to  heel.  Ere  long  the  tumult  thickened, 
the  same  tragedy  was  enacted  before  his  humble  doors,  that 
was  polluting  even  then  the  threshold  of  the  royal  residence. 
A  few  shots  from  his  window,  harmlessly  aimed  above  the 
heads  of  the  poor  fugitives,  procured  him  at  once  the  character 
of  a  zealous  partisan  ;  when,  binding  the  badge  of  white  upon 
his  arm  —  which  he  had  remarked  with  his  accustomed  keen 
ness —  and  fixing  in  his  burnished  morion  the  silver  cross  of 
his  loved  country,  he  descended,  resolutely  plunging  through 
the  abhorred  carnage,  in  the  hope  of  extricating  himself,  amid 
the  general  havoc,  from  the  guilty  city. 

Though  by  no  means  elevated  in  all  his  thoughts  above  the 
prejudices  of  the  age,  and  though  himself  a  zealous  adherent 
of  the  Romish  church,  his  noble  soul  revolted  from  a  scene  so 
barbarous,  and,  as  he  saw  at  once,  so  horribly  gratuitous.  Had 
the  destruction  been  confined  to  the  leaders  of  the  Huguenot 
party,  nay,  even  to  the  whole  of  its  armed  supporters,  it  is 
possible  that  his  ideas  might  not  have  soared  beyond  the  spirit 
of  his  times  ;  but  when  he  saw  children  unable  yet  to  lisp 
their  earliest  words,  girls  in  the  flush  of  virgin  loveliness,  and 
youthful  mothers  with  their  infants  at  their  bosom,  hewn  down 
and  trampled  to  the  earth,  he  shrank  with  inward  loathing  from 
such  promiscuous  slaughter,  and  hardly  could  he  refrain  from 


304  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

starting  to  the  rescue.  Nurtured,  however,  as  he  had  been,  in 
a  rude  and  iron  country,  educated  in  a  school  of  warfare,  in 
ured,  from  his  youth  upward,  to  sights  of  blood,  and,  above  all 
things,  tutored  by  sad  experience,  in  that  most  arduous  lesson, 
to  keep  the  feelings  ever  in  subjection  to  the  reason,  he  had 
less  difficulty  in  resisting  his  desire  to  strike  a  blow  in  behalf 
of  helpless  innocence,  than  we,  at  this  enlightened  period,  can 
imagine  ;  and  thus,  occasionally  lending  his  deep  voice  to 
swell  the  clamor  which  he  hated,  he  strode  along  amid  the 
host  of  persecutors,  collecting,  as  best  he  might,  from  the  dis 
jointed  exclamations  of  the  mob,  such  information  as  might 
serve  to  extricate  him  from  the  wide  charnel-house  of  Paris. 
Armed,  from  head  to  heel,  in  complete  panoply,  his  unusual 
proportions,  and  lofty  port,  joined  to  the  stern  authority  which 
sat  upon  his  brow,  caused  him  to  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a 
chieftain,  among  the  Romish  partisans.  It  was  not,  therefore, 
long  before  he  ascertained  that  two  of  the  city-gates  had  pur 
posely  been  left  unbarred,  though  circled  by  a  chosen  band  of 
Switzers,  and  Italian  mercenaries  ;  and  if  he  could  succeed  in 
making  his  way  unscathed  to  either  of  these,  he  doubted  not 
bnt  he  should  be  able  to  pass,  by  means  of  his  assumed  impor 
tance  ;  and,  once  at  large,  he  was  resolved  to  make  no  pause 
until  he  should  have  crossed  the  sea.  One  difficulty  alone 
presented  itself — it  would  be  necessary  that  he  should  traverse 
the  esplanade  before  the  windows  of  the  Louvre,  and  beneath 
the  very  eyes  of  the  perfidious  Charles  ;  who,  if  he  should 
recognise  the  person  of  the  haughty  Scot,  would,  beyond  a 
doubt,  avenge  the  slight  which  had  been  offered  to  his  royal 
will.  Still  it  was  his  sole  chance  of  escape  ;  and,  when  life 
is  at  stake,  there  is  no  probability,  however  slender,  to  which 
men  will  not  cling  in  their  extremity. 

Boldly,  but  at  the  same  time  cautiously,  did  Hamilton  pro 
ceed,  stifling  his  indignation  at  a  thousand  sights,  which  made 


EPICURES    IN    BUTCHERY.  305 

his  heart's  blood  curdle,  with  necessary  resolution,  nor  daring 
to  extend  an  arm  to  protect  the  miserable  beings  who  clung 
around  his  knees,  wrestling  with  their  cold-blooded  murderers, 
and  shrieking,  in  their  great  agony,  for  '  Life  !  life  !  for  the 
love  of  God  !"  Once,  as  with  ill-dissembled  fury,  he  headed 
a  band  of  more  than  common  ferocity,  a  lovely  female — her 
slender  garments  torn  from  her  limbs  by  the  rude  soldiery,  her 
long,  fair  tresses  dabbled  in  the  blood  which -gushed  from 
twenty  wounds  —  thrust  her  helpless  babe  into  his  arms,  be 
seeching  him  with  anguish,  such  as  none  but  mothers  feel  — 
"  If  he  had  ever  loved  a  woman,  to  save  her  little  one  !''  Even 
as  she  spoke,  a  dark-browed  Spaniard  struck  his  stiletto  into 
her  bosom,  and  she  fell,  still  shrieking  as  she  lay  beneath  the 
trampling  feet  —  "Save!  for  God's  love!  save  my  wretched 
child  !"  The  monster  who  had  felled  the  parent,  drove  the 
bloody  weapon  into  the  throat  of  the  infant,  and  whirling  the 
little  corpse  around  his  head,  shouted  the  accursed  war-cry  — 
"Death!  death!  to  the  Huguenots!"  It  was  fortunate  for 
the  noble  Scott,  that  as  he  turned,  the  hot  blood  boiling  to  his 
brow  with  rage,  to  avenge  the  crime,  an  ill-directed  shot  from" 
a  neighboring  casement,  took  place  in  the  Spaniard's  forehead, 
and,  with  a  mingled  yell  of  agony  and  triumph,  he  plunged 
headlong  forward  upon  the  bodies  of  his  victims,  a  dead  man, 
ere  he  touched  the  pavement.  His  whole  soul  sickening  at 
the  fiendish  outrage,  Hamilton  could  barely  nerve  himself  to 
go  another  step,  in  such  companionship ;  but,  although  he  did 
not  move  a  limb,  the  pressure  of  the  concourse  bore  him  on 
ward,  till  almost  unconsciously  he  found  himself  a  witness  to 
the  scenes  enacted  in  the  court-yard  of  the  palace. 

The  area  of  the  promenade  had,  by  this  time,  been  cleared 
of  living  occupants  through  means  too  surely  indicated  by  the 
piles  of  gory  carcasses  heaped  up  on  every  side.  The  men, 
tired  of  unresisting  butchery,  leaned  listlessly  on  their  tall 


306  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

lances,  unless  some  keener  stimulus  urged  them  to  fresh  ex 
ertions  ;  they  had  become  epicures,  as  it  were,  in  cruelty,  and 
rarely  moved  from  their  positions,  unless  to  commit  some 
deed  of  blacker  and  more  damnable  atrocity.  The  king  still 
kept  his  station,  at  the  window  of  the  tennis-court,  and  ever 
and  anon,  the  bright  flash  of  his  harquebuss  announced  that  he 
still  found  gratification  in  wanton  bloodshed. 

The  unfortunate  wretches  who  had  rushed  into  tjie  toils, 
while  seeking  for  a  refuge,  had,  for  the  most  part,  fallen  vic 
tims  to  his  deadly  aim  ;  but  a  few,  smarting  with  unnumbered 
wounds,  and  rendered  sullen  by  despair,  crouched  in  a  corner 
of  the  small  enclosure,  seemingly  unwilling  to  meet  their  fate, 
otherwise  than  in  company ;  till,  pricked  and  goaded  up  by 
the  pike  of  the  condottieri,  they  were  compelled  to  run  the 
gauntlet,  foaming  at  the  mouth,  like  over-driven  oxen,  and 
staggering  like  men  in  the  last  stage  of  drunkenness.  The 
red  spot  glowed  upon  the  front  of  Bothwelhaugh,  as  he  beheld 
the  savage  pastime  ;  for  many  hours  his  choler  had  been  ac 
cumulating,  and  it  was  now  fast  verging  to  the  point,  at  which 
it  must  find  vent,  or  suffocate  him.  He  saw  a  fair  child  borne 
in  the  arms  of  a  brawny  butcher  of  the  suburbs,  smiling  up 
into  the  face  and  twining  its  tiny  fingers  among  the  clotted 
mustaches  of  its  unmoved  tormentor; — he  saw  it  torn  from 
its  hold,  impaled  upon  a  lance,  and  held  aloft,  a  target  for  the 
monarch's  practice.  He  saw  De  Guise,  the  arch-mover  of  the 
mischief,  descend  from  his  charger,  and  coolly  wipe  the  vis 
age  of  the  slaughtered  Coligni,  with  his  own  kerchief,  to  as 
certain  the  identity  of  the  lifeless  clay.  He  saw  a  band  of 
little  children,  dragging  an  infant  Huguenot  along,  laughing 
and  crowing  at  its  youthful  executioners,  to  plunge  the  cradled 
babe  in  the  dark  eddies  of  the  Seine.  He  felt  that  he  could 
endure  this  no  longer  —  he  felt  that  he  must  proclaim  his 
hatred  and  abhorrence,  or  expire  in  the  effort  of  repressing 


THE    RECOGNITION.  307 

them;  and  all  that  he  now  desired,  was  an  opportunity  of  dy 
ing  with  eclat,  and  of  involving  in  his  own  destruction  the 
author  of  so  many  horrors.  At  the  very  moment  when  these 
fiery  thoughts  were  working  in  his  brain,  an  object  met  his 
eye,  which,  by  recalling  associations  of  a  time  and  place  far 
distant,  roused  him  at  once  to  open  fury.  A  mother  bearing 
her  lifeless  child  along,  hopelessly  and  irretrievably  frantic  ! 
Regardless  of  the  wound  which  had  been  inflicted  on  her  ten 
der  frame  —  fearless  of  the  pursuers,  who  hunted  her  with 
brandished  blades  —  she  dandled  the  clay-cold  body  in  the  air, 
or  hushed  it  in  her  bleeding  bosom,  humming  wild  fragments, 
which  her  memory  yet  retained,  from  melodies  of  happier 
days.  At  once  the  snow-storm  on  the  banks  of  Esk,  his  own 
beloved  bride,  frenzied  and  perishing  beside  the  first-born 
pledge  of  her  affections,  rushed  instantaneously  upon  his  mind. 
"  Accursed  butchers,  hold  !"  he  shouted  in  a  voice  of  thunder, 
and,  ere  they  could  obey  his  bidding,  the  foremost  fell,  precip 
itated  by  the  swiftness  of  his  previous  motion,  ten  feet  in  front 
of  his  intended  victim  ;  —  and  a  second,  and  a  third  staggered 
away  from  his  tremendous  blows  mortally  wounded,  while  the 
rest — struck  with  astonishment  at  seeing  one,  whom  they,  till 
now,  had  followed  as  a  champion  in  their  cause,  stand  forth  in 
the  defence  of  a  proscribed  heretic  —  faltered,  and  skulked  aside 
like  rated  hounds. 

Ere  he  had  time  to  reflect  on  the  consequences  of  his  rash 
ness,  a  well-remembered  voice  thrilled  in  his  ear,  "'Tis  he!" 
No  more  was  spoken  ;  but  in  that  brief  sentence,  he  had  heard 
and  'recognised  his  doom.  Turning  toward  the  palace-front, 
he  marked  the  form  of  Catharine,  leaning  from  the  window ; 
and  pointing,  in  all  the  eagerness  of  hatred,  her  extended  arm 
to  his  own  person  ;  behind  her,  he  could  just  distinguish  the 
sallow  features  of  the  king,  reaching  his  hand  to  grasp  the 
matchlock,  which  a  courtier  loaded  at  his  elbow.  "  I  shall 


308  HAMILTON    OF    BOTHWELHAUGH. 

die  !"  muttered  the  undaunted  Scot,  "  but  unavenged,  never !" 
A  petronel  was  in  his  hand — the  muzzle  bore  fully  on  the 
majestic  figure  of  the  queen,  his  finger  pressed  the  trigger  — 
he  paused,  stood  like  a  statue  carved  in  marble,  his  weapon 
still  directed  to  the  mark,  and  that  falcon  glance,  which  never 
yet  had  missed  its  aim,  fixed  steadfastly  upon  its  object !  He 
saw  the  carabine  of  the  tyrant  rise  slowly  to  its  level,  yet  he 
fired  not !  The  person  of  Charles  was  screened  by  the  in 
tervention  of  his  mother's  breast.  "Devil!"  he  shouted  — 
"  devil  that  thou  art — exult  in  thine  impunity  !  No  Hamilton 
hath  ever  harmed  a  woman  !"  The  carabine  was  discharged, 
but  no  motion  of  the  Scot  showed  what  had  been  the  event ! 
The  brow  was  still  serene,  the  arm  extended,  and  the  eyeball 
calm  as  ever  !  The  hand  rose  higher,  till  the  pistol  pointed 
perpendicularly  upward  —  the  report  rang  clearly  into  the  air 
—  and  ere  the  echoes  passed  away,  the  gallant,  but  misguided 
soldier  lay  a  corpse  upon  the  bloody  pavement — cut  off  him 
self,  as  he  had  slain  the  oppressor,  by  the  bullet  of  a  con 
cealed  assassin.  Such  are  the  ways  of  Providence. 


AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG; 

<Dr,  tjj? 


INTRODUCTION. 

ALONG  the  whole  north  shore  of  Lake  Huron,  extending 
over  not  much  less  than  five  degrees  of  latitude  from  north  to 
south,  and  varying  from  forty  to  one  hundred  miles  in  width, 
there  lies  a  vast  expanse  of  navigable  water,  known  as  the 
Georgian  bay ;  the  shores  of  which  to  this  hour  are  almost 
untrodden,  except  by  the  moccasined  foot  of  the  red  man,  and 
the  surface  of  which  is  almost  unfurrowed  by  the  keel  of  mod 
ern  adventure. 

Divided  by  a  long  promontory,  the  precipitous  cape  of  which 
has  taken  its  name  of  Cabot's  head  from  a  huge  projecting 
bowlder  on  its  summit,  and  by  the  extended  and  almost  con 
tinuous  chain  of  the  Manitoulin  islands,  from  the  main  lake,  the 
Georgian  bay,  from  its  size,  its  depth,  the  great  rivers  which 
it  receives,  and'  the  unnumbered  harbors  of  refuge  with  which 
its  iron-bound  coasts  are  indented,  deserves  rather  to  be  re 
garded  as  in  itself  a  lake,  than  merely  as  a  portion  of  the 
gigantic  Huron. 


310  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENO. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  its  magnificent  extent,  the  unrivalled  purity 
of  its  deep,  dark  blue,  yet  wondrously  transparent  waters,  the 
wild  magnificence  of  its  iron  scenery,  I  know  nothing  so 
lonely,  nothing  which  impresses  the  mind  of  the  voyager  with 
so  utter  a  sense  of  solitariness,  as  a  sail  on  its  unfrequented 
bosom. 

For  days  —  for  days — you  may  steam  or  sail  right  on 
ward,  with  the  mainland,  or  the  thousand  islands,  ever  in 
view,  yet  not  a  sail,  not  the  bark  of  an  Indian,  not  the  smoke 
of  a  wigwam  shall  vary  the  desolate  sublimity  of  the  scene  ; 
unless  you  leave  the  direct  course,  to  visit  some  one  of  the 
Indian  villages  or  the  miners'  stations,  which  of  late  are  be 
ginning  to  grow  up  along  the  northern  shore. 

Only  three  vessels,  to  this  day,  cross  the  waters  of  the  Geor 
gian  bay ;  one  a  small  schooner  employed  for  the  supply  of 
the  Bruce  mines  ;  the  second,  a  clever  little  steamer,  the  Gore, 
plying  between  Penetanguishine,  whence  there  is  an  easy 
portage  to  Toronto  and  the  Sault  St.  Marie  ;  and  the  third,  the 
Mohawk  man-of-war  steamer,  whose  summer  cruising-ground 
embraces  all  the  upper  lakes  from  the  great  Falls  of  Niagara  to 
the  lovely  rapids  of  the  Sault  St.  Marie.  The  great  line  of 
western  travel,  lying  along  the  southern  and  western  shores 
which  are  visited  daily,  I  had  almost  said  hourly  during  the 
summer  months,  by  steamers  of  most  luxurious  accommodation, 
and  sailing  craft  of  every  rig  and  almost  every  burthen,  leaves 
the  stormy  and  rock-bound  expanse  of  the  Georgian  bay  far 
aloof;  and  few  are  the  visitors  who  have  seen  its  wondrous  beau 
ties,  or  penetrated  into  the  mysteries  of  rock,  wilderness,  and 
river,  cataract,  rapid,  swamp,  and  rice  lake,  which  diversify 
its  northern  shore  with  an  endless  labyrinth  of  most  romantic 
beauty. 

Neither  the  highlands  of  the  Hudson,  nor  the  thousand  isles 
of  the  far-famed  St.  Lawrence,  have  to  me  the  charm  of  the 


LAKE    HURON.  311 

wild,  solitary,  silent  grandeur  of  the  Huron.  Waters  so  clear, 
that  you  can  mark  each  prominence  or  cranny  of  the  granite 
rock,  number  each  long  and  sinuous  blade  of  the  watergrass, 
count  every  fish  that  wags  a  fin,  five  fathoms  deep,  more  easily 
than  so  many  inches  in  our  eastern  streams  or  lakelets  — 
shores  so  bold,  that  a  man-of-war  can  lie  broadside  against  the 
rocks,  moored  to  the  mighty  pines,  whose  foliage  makes  wild 
music  to  the  gale  from  which  they  shelter  her,  many  and 
many  a  yard  above  her  topmasts.  No  sounds  or  sights  of  life 
save  the  plash  of  the  heavy  sturgeon  falling  back  on  the  mir 
rored  surface,  and  breaking  the  green-wood  picture,  which  slept 
there  so  calmly  bright,  into  a  thousand  glancing  ripples ;  save  the 
wild,  tremulous  note,  how  like  the  Ossianic  notion  of  a  spirit's 
cry,  of  the  great  northern  diver ;  save  the  circling  swoops  of 
the  snowy  terns  and  gulls  ;  and,  now  perhaps  and  again,  at 
rare  intervals,  the  heavy  shadow  cast  on  the  sunny  lake  from 
the  broad  wings  of  the  bald-headed  eagle,  sailing  between  it 
and  the  sun,  and  overcoming  its  clear  surface  most  like  a  sum 
mer  cloud. 

Such,  and  such  only,  are  the  sounds  and  sights  which  he 
will  hear  and  see,  who  voyages  across  those  lonely  waters,  in 
these  days  of  vaunted  progress  and  increased  civilization. 

But  not  so  it  was  two  hundred  years  ago ;  for  then  those 
grand,  and  good,  and  brave  discoverers,  those  only  real  civili- 
zers,  only  consistent  benefactors  of  the  savage,  the  French 
Jesuits,  were  in  their  full  career  of  enterprise,  and  usefulness, 
and  charity.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  course,  in  the  Old 
World,  of  this  great,  active,  energetic,  self-devoting  sect,  one 
thing  at  least  is  certain,  that  from  the  first  to  the  last  in  the 
New  World,  of  North  America  at  least,  they  have  been  sig 
nally,  confessedly,  and  incontrovertibly,  the  benefactors  of 
mankind. 

Strange  it  would  seem,  but  so  it  is,  that  from  the  first  intro- 


312  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

duction  of  Catholicism  by  the  French  into  the  northern,  and 
by  Lord  Baltimore  into  the  southern,  regions  of  North  America, 
the  very  genius  of  that  religion  changed  its  nature. 

While  the  various  sects  of  the  protestants  were  martyring 
one  another,  and  combining  only  to  butcher  and  rob  the  red 
man ;  while  the  puritans  were  hanging  quakers,  banishing 
baptists,  burning  witches,  depopulating  the  catholic  settle 
ments,  and  barbarously  misusing  the  mild  and  peaceful  settlers 
of  Acadia,  offering  rewards  for  the  scalps  of  heathen,  and 
coolly  sentencing  independent  princes,  such  as  the  brave  Can- 
onchet,  last  of  the  Narragansets,  or  the  right  royal  Wampa- 
noag  Philip,  to  cold-blooded  slaughter,  the  Jesuits  with  a  pure 
zeal,  an  humble  self-devotion,  worthy  the  followers  of  Him 
whose  followers  they  claim  to  be,  were  incurring  pains  and 
perils  equal  almost  to  those  of  the  first  apostles,  valuing  their 
lives  at  nothing,  and  dying  with  serene  and  Christian  fortitude, 
prompted  by  no  desire  but  that  of  winning  converts  to  the 
Christian  fold,  and  aiming  at  no  other  object  than  the  precept 
of  their  order,  the  sublime  ad  tnajorem  Dei  gloriam. 

The  great  discoverers,  and  first  explorers,  the  most  authentic 
and  trustworthy  historians,  of  our  inland  waters  and  far  west 
ern  territories,  neither  climate  nor  distance,  neither  peril  nor 
suffering,  deterred  the  dauntless  Jesuits,  where  there  were 
wonders  of  nature  to  be  rescued  from  the  gloom  of  the  prim 
eval  forest,  or  souls  of  mortal  men  to  be  snatched  from  the 
more  perilous  darkness  of  heathendom. 

To  the  honor  of  the  Frenchmen  and  the  Jesuit,  then,  be  it 
recorded,  and  I,  though  neither  of.  his  race  nor  his  religion, 
will  never  cease  to  insist  on  its  remembrance,  that  in  no  single 
instance,  do  we  find  him  using  his  superior  force  or  his  supe 
rior  wisdom,  otherwise  than  as  a  true  friend,  and  to  the  extent 
of  his  lights,  an  honest  spiritual  counsellor,  of  the  North 
American  savage. 


THE    JESUIT    MISSIONARIES.  313 

Unlike  the  proud  ecclesiastics,  luxurious,  greedy,  fierce,  and 
cruel,  who  hounded  the  Cortez  and  the  Pizarros  against  the 
softer  savage  of  the  southern  hemisphere,  kindling  the  fagot 
and  sanctioning  the  rack,  and  baptizing  with  blood  and  fire 
only,  the  French  Jesuit  used  no  weapons  for  conversion  but 
purity  of  life,  humility  of  bearing,  faith,  charity,  and  a  zeal 
unconquerable  for  the  extension  of  his  religion. 

Never  the  torturers,  often  the  tortured,  of  their  half-barbar 
ous  converts  ;  men  often  of  the  highest  birth ;  men  always  of 
the  brightest  parts  and  profoundest  learning ;  they  took  upon 
themselves  the  cross  of  Christ,  and  exchanged  the  most  pol 
ished  court  arid  country  of  the  then  world,  for  the  howling 
wilderness  ;  and  that  without  the  hope  of  temporal  or  spiritual 
advancement,  without  the  possibility  of  gaining  wealth  or 
fame,  at  the  total  sacrifice  of  every  worldly  comfort,  at  the 
almost  certain  risk  of  their  lives.  They  lived  unselfish,  and 
they  died  undaunted,  ad  majorem  Dei  gloriam. 

Honor  to  the  memory,  peace  to  the  ashes,  of  the  French 
Jesuits  !  Their  bodies  have  long  mouldered  away  under  the 
sere  leaves  of  the  forest ;  the  very  tribes  whom  they  taught, 
and  by  whose  hands  they  fell,  have  long  since  vanished  from 
the  face  of  the  earth  ;  but  their  souls  live  for  ever  in  His  keep 
ing,  who  sees  the  motive  of  the  heart  as  clearly  as  the  deed 
of  the  hand,  and  will  repay  a  thousand-fold  the  good  works 
wrought  in  his  name,  and  for  his  love  and  honor. 

I  have  wandered  among  the  sites  of  their  ruined  stations;  I 
have  sat  on  the  grassy  mounds,  whence  they  perchance  preach 
ed  the  word  of  life  to  their  dusky  converts  ;  whereon  perchance 
they  writhed  in  torment  at  the  stake,  invoking  mercy  from  on 
high  with  their  last  breath  upon  their  ignorant  destroyers. 

And  I  know  nothing  more  affecting,  nothing  that  leaves  a 
deeper  or  more  melancholy  impress  on  the  heart,  than  when, 
after  walking  miles  along  some  difficult  Indian  trace,  or  pad- 

14 


314  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

tiling  the  birch  canoe  over  the  dim  and  solemn  waters  of  some 
forest-embowed  river,  one  suddenly  emerges,  under  the  glim 
mering  moonlight,  or  the  fresh,  dewy  dawn,  into  the  long-de 
serted  clearing,  once  fertilized  by  the  hands  of  the  good  church 
men  ;  and  gazes  upon  the  ruins  of  the  outposts  erected  in  the 
extremest  solitudes,  not  against  earthly  foes,  but  against  the 
arch-enemy  of  man. 

There  one  may  trace,  even  now,  by  the  surrounding  objects, 
the  routine  of  their  innocent  and  blameless  lives  ;  there,  was 
the  garden  where  they  raised  their  frugal  stores  ;  even  now 
all  wild,  degenerated,  and  untrained,  he  may  discover  the 
scions  of  the  European  fruit-trees,  which  they  brought  from 
the  apple-orchards  of  old  Normandy,  or  the  richer  districts  of 
Touraine  ;  here  is  the  spring,  whence  they  drew  the  water 
which,  it  may  well  be,  sealed  the  Christianity  of  Iroquois  or 
Huron  neophytes,  long  ere  the  Ojibwas  or  Pottowatomies 
brought  fire  and  havoc  from  their  southern  hunting-grounds, 
and  quenched  the  altars  with  the  blood  of  their  own  unresist 
ing  ministers. 

Many  a  legend  dwells,  to  this  day,  about  the  places  which 
their  deaths  and  their  lives  have  alike  rendered  holy ;  and 
although  these  are  related  now  by  the  descendants  of  the  very 
tribes  who  slaughtered  them,  yet  they  are  told  with  sympathy, 
and  oftentimes  with  real  sorrow;  for  the  Ojibwas  now  no  more 
sacrifice  the  white  dog  at  the  full  of  the  moon,  but  are  gathered 
for  the  most  part  under  the  same  mild  Christian  rule  professed 
by  the  Iroquois,  whom  two  centuries  ago  they  slaughtered  as 
idolaters. 

None  of  these  struck  me  as  more  sadly  solemn,  than  this  of 
Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng,  or  the  Reed-shaken-by-the- 
wind,  an  Ojibwa  girl,  who,  in  those  dark  and  bloody  days, 
brought,  like  another  Helen,  havoc  and  desolation  whither  she 
had  laid  up  her  fatal,  though  not  guilty  love. 


MORNING    IN    SUMMER.  315 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    MAIDEN. 

She  was  a  phantom  of  delight 
"When  first  she  gleamed  upon  my  sight ; 
A  lovely  apparition,  sent 
To  be  a  moment's  ornament; 
Her  eyes  as  stars  of  twilight  fair  ; 
Like  twilight's  too  her  dusky  hair  ; 
But  all  things  else  about  her  drawn 
From  May-time  and  the  cheerful  dawn. 

WORDSWORTH. 

IT  was  already  daylight,  though  the  sun  had  not  yet  risen 
above  the  tops  of  the  forest-trees,  which  formed  the  visible 
horizon ;  and  from  the  aspect  of  the  skies  overhead,  and  the 
soft,  dewy  coolness  of  the  fragrant  morning  air,  it  promised  to 
be  as  beautiful  a  summer  day  as  ever  gladdened  the  face  of 
earth.  There  were  but  two,  or  three,  small,  fleecy  specks  of 
cloud,  suspended  motionless  near  the  zenith,  visible  in  the 
dark  azure  of  the  skies  ;  and  these  were  changing  their  hues 
momently,  as  long  lustrous  rays  came  stealing  up  from  the 
eastward,  harbingers  of  the  sun's  advent.  A  moment  ago,  they 
were  plain,  sad-colored,  gray  patches  on  the  blue  ground-work  ; 
gradually  a  dull  purple  glazed  them  over ;  that  brightened  into 
rose-color  ;  into  rich  carmine  ;  and  now  they  are  glittering  like 
coals  of  fire,  or  flecks  of  molten  gold,  mirrored  as  clearly  in 
the  still,  narrow,  brimful  river,  as  they  glow  aloft  in  the  sum 
mer  sky. 

The  thin,  light  mist,  which  crept  up  awhile  since  from  the 
surface  of  the  translucent  stream,  has  melted  into  air  ;  and  the 


316          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

evergreens  on  the  farther  shore,  huge  hemlocks  and  heaven- 
reaching  pines,  which  grow  down  to  the  very  water's  edge,  are 
reflected  so  wondrously  distinct,  dark  feathery  plumage,  ar 
rowy  limbs,  and  white,  weather-bleached  centennial  trunks, 
that  it  were  a  very  true  eye  which  should  define  at  once  where 
is  the  meeting  of  the  reality  and  of  the  shadow.  Ever  and 
anon  a  plump  of  duck  and  mallard  come  sweeping  over  head, 
above  the  tops  of  the  highest  trees,  the  strident  whistle  of  their 
wings  first  attracting  the  eye  to  their  quick,  glancing  flight, 
and  are  scarce  seen  before  they  have  darted  out  of  sight  be 
yond  the  wooded  point  that  bounds  the  next  reach  of  the  gentle 
river.  Once  and  again  a  heavy  shadow  flits  over  the  smooth 
expanse,  the  image  as  it  seems  of  a  gigantic  pair  of  wings, 
overshadowing  half  the  width  of  the  sunlighted  channel.  It 
ceases  suddenly,  for  the  wings  which  projected  it  are  folded, 
and  there  on  the  naked  crest  of  a  huge  cypress,  poising  him 
self  on  the  very  pinnacle,  sits  the  bald-headed  eagle,  watching 
to  see  the  parent  duck  lead  forth  her  fledgling  brood  from  the 
cool  covert  of  the  sheltering  lily-leaves,  which  overspread  the 
shoals,  and  give  the  wary  water-birds  a  sure  asylum.  There 
flits,  along  the  pebbly  margins,  the  noisy  yellow-leg,  the  golden 
plover,  or  the  small-spotted  sand-piper,  each  in  pursuit  of  some 
small  worm  or  insect,  its  peculiar  prey.  There  the  harsh- 
screaming  kingfisher  circles  above  the  small  fry,  as  they  dim 
ple  the  tranquil  surface,  hunting  fry  smaller  yet,  and  yet  more 
powerless.  There  again,  motionless  as  the  gray  trunk  behind 
him,  which  in  hue  he  most  resembles,  patient  and  Avatchful, 
stands  the  great  blue  heron  ;  and  now  he  cecks  his  bright  eye, 
and  with  an  arrowy  motion  darts  forward  his  long  neck  and 
javelin  bill,  transfixing  with  a  pitiless  stroke  the  monster  bull 
frog,  chief  basso  of  his  aquatic  orchestra,  just  as  he  has  him 
self  sucked  in  a  beautiful  golden  and  blue  tibellula,  as  he  hung 
poised  with  rapid  wing  over  an  open  lotus  flower.  Here,  in 


A    SIMILE.  317 

the  shadow  of  the  bank,  where  the  water  sleeps  so  clearly  in 
its  brown,  transparent  reflections,  mark,  where,  itself  a  shadow, 
lies  in  expectant  ambush  the  lithe  body  of  the  great  northern 
pickerel.  There,  he  has  struck  at  a  passing  shiner,  and  ere 
the  bright,  silvery  streak,  that  marked  his  rapid  transit  through 
the  water,  has  subsided,  a  heavier  plunge  is  heard ;  for  the 
felon  otter,  watching  from  his  hole  under  the  tortuous  alder- 
roots,  has  espied  the  motion,  and  pounced,  tyrant-like,  on  the 
spoiled  and  the  spoiler  simultaneously. 

So  it  is  ever,  in  the  wilderness  as  in  the  world,  the  strong 
prey  still  upon  the  weak,  and  the  weak  on  the  weaker.  All 
life  is  one  long  flight  from  those  to  be  avoided,  one  long  pur 
suit  of  those  to  be  made  captive.  From  the  man,  half  divine, 
to  the  reptile,  less  than  the  brute,  there  is  no  rest,  no  respite 
—  to  take  or  be  taken,  to  slay  or  to  be  slaughtered,  such  seem 
to  be  the  conditions  on  which  the  boon  of  life  is  held  ;  nor  is 
the  crowded  haunt,  the  boasted  mart  of  civilized  life  in  great 
cities,  in  this  respect  endowed  with  one  immunity  beyond  the 
lonely  forest,  or  the  howling  desert. 

That  is  a  wild  and  lonely  spot  even  now,  and  few  and  rare 
are  the  settlements  around  it,  either  of  the  white  man  or  the 
half-civilized  Ojibwa  or  Pottawatomie,  but  at  the  time  at  which 
I  write,  there  was  no  spot  more  savage,  nor  farther  removed, 
as  it  would  seem,  from  every  human  influence,  than  the  wild 
woods,  the  rocky  shores,  and  the  still  waters,  which  surround 
ed  the  embouchure  of  what  is  now  known  as  the  river  Wye 
into  the  eastern  end  of  the  great  Georgian  bay. 

The  eye  of  the  white  man,  even  now,  as  he  paddles  across 
the  inner  cove  into  which  the  deep,  clear,  narrow  river  opens, 
fails  to  detect  the  smallest  opening  in  the  dense  tree-tops  of  the 
forest  through  which  the  brimful  river  finds  its  outlet,  nor  does 
the  bosom  of  the  bay  itself  indicate,  in  the  least  degree,  that 
large  mass  of  extraneous  waters  which  here  should  swell  its 


318  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

volume,  for  it  is  shoal  to  the  last  degree,  and  overgrown  with 
a  luxuriant  vegetation  of  wild  rice  and  reeds,  through  which 
steal  deviously  a  hundred  tortuous  and  unsuspected  channels, 
through  which  only  can  the  ponderous  dug-out  of  the  Cana 
dian  Frenchman,  or  the  light  birch  canoe  of  the  native,  find  its 
way  into  the  entrance  of  the  river. 

The  keener  glance  of  an  Indian,  however  apt  to  see  things 
with  a  sort  of  reasoning  and  inquiring  gaze,  deductive  rather 
than  intuitive,  would  not  be  long  in  discovering  that  there  ran 
through  those  woods,  seemingly  so  uninterrupted  and  unbroken, 
a  division  line  of  some  kind,  regular  though  circuitous,  nor  in 
suspecting  that  division  line  to  be  water ;  for  whereas  the 
northern  shore  of  the  stream  consists  of  low,  damp,  swampy 
land,  for  a  mile  or  two  up  the  course  of  the  river,  covered  with 
a  growth  of  tamarack,  hemlock,  and  cedar,  that  to  the  south  is 
higher,  bolder,  drier,  and  is  overspread  by  a  finer  forest  of  oak, 
maple,  birch,  and  poplar,  with  here  and  there  the  arrowy  cone 
of  a  gigantic  white-pine,  piercing  the  clouds  a  hundred  feet 
above  the  summits  of  its  deciduous  brethren. 

To  the  ordinary  eyes  of  the  traveller  or  searcher  of  the  pic 
turesque,  signs  like  these  have  no  meaning ;  but  to  the  half- 
wild  forester  or  to  the  aboriginal  man  of  the  woods,  they  speak 
volumes,  and  thence  it  is  that  to  find  any  retreat  so  sure  as  to 
baffle  the  instinct  and  blind  the  eyes  of  an  Indian  warrior  on 
the  war-path,  is  one  of  the  things  —  the  few  things  on  earth — 
which  may  be  set  down,  as  the  rule,  to  be  impossible. 

Nor  had  it  escaped  the  penetration  of  the  natives,  that  there 
was  more  than  ordinary  facility  in  supporting  their  family  re 
lations  to  be  found  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  embouchure  of 
the  beautiful  Wye  ;  for  even  at  that  early  day,  when  the  Iro- 
quois  or  Huron  tribe  were  the  sole  possessors  of  the  northern 
shores  of  the  great  lakes,  and  when  their  villages  and  wig 
wams,  even  upon  their  shores  and  water-courses,  were  few 


THE    WYE.  319 

and  far  between,  it  would  seem  that  they  had  established  some 
settlement  in  that  vicinity,  tempted,  it  may  be,  by  the  abun 
dance  of  fish  which  swam  those  limpid  waters,  and  of  fowl 
which  fed  almost  unmolested  among  the  wild-rice  lakes  into 
which  its  upward  course  expanded. 

At  the  point  of  view  whence  \ve  first  looked  on  the  tranquil 
river,  with  its  lazy  eddies  and  many-colored,  beautiful  reflec 
tions,  the  southern  shore  jutted  forward  in  a  wide,  semi-circu 
lar  bend,  above  and  below  which  the  dense  evergreens,  which 
were  the  only  indications  of  the  northern  shore,  seeming  to 
swim  on  the  bosom  of  the  slow-flowing  stream,  swept  forward 
in  their  turn  for  a  hundred  yards  or  so,  when  the  southern 
bank  again  advanced,  and  suffering  a  double  reach  to  be  seen, 
resembling  in  shape  an  inverted  letter  S,  cut  off  all  farther 
view  in  either  direction  so  completely,  that  had  it  not  been  for 
the  quiet  and  sleepy  swirls  of  the  downward  current,  and  the 
narrowness  and  regularity  of  the  channel  as  compared  to  its 
width,  the  river  might  have  been  easily  mistaken  for  an  inland 
pool  or  lakelet. 

On  both  sides  of  the  water  many  trees  had  fallen  into  the 
stream,  and  lay  some  up,  some  down,  some  partially  across 
the  current,  and  these  of  such  giant  bulk  and  colossal  height, 
that  had  two  chanced  to  lie  directly  opposite,  their  branches 
would  have  mingled,  and  they  would  actually  have  bridged  the 
stream  ;  nay,  they  might  well,  as  I  have  often  seen  in  that  re 
gion,  when  backed  by  deposite  after  deposite  of  drift-wood,  float 
ing  trees,  reeds,  rice,  and  river  trash,  have  formed  a  raft,  and 
becoming  gradually  covered  with  decomposed  vegetable  mat 
ter,,  and  overgrown  with  parasitic  plants  and  shrubs,  have  as 
sumed  the  semblance  of  firm  soil,  with  the  slow  waters  soak 
ing  constantly,  although  unseen,  below  them,  on  their  way  to 
swell  the  everlasting  chorus  of  Niagara,  and  sweep  triumphant 


320          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

into  the   huge  Atlantic,  through  that  incomparable  artery  of 
North  America,  the  grand  estuary  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 

In  this  instance,  however,  perhaps  by  the  constancy  and 
strength  of  the  slow  current,  perhaps  by  human  agency,  for  a 
keen  eye  might  detect  the  marks  of  the  axe  on  some  of  the 
massive  bolls,  the  course  of  the  river  had  been  kept  clear,  and 
though  a  canoe,  either  ascending  or  descending,  must  have 
run  a  zigzag  or  circuitous  course,  in  order  to  escape  interrup 
tion  from  the  snags  and  sawyers,  as  they  would  be  termed  on 
the  southern  waters,  these  in  no  case  interlapped  or  lay  with 
in  forty  or  fifty  feet  distance  of  each  other. 

One  of  these  trees,  a  vast  white-oak,  completely  barked,  and 
bleached  by  the  suns  and  snows,  of  fierce  summers,  burning 
with  almost  tropic  heat,  and  of  winters,  second  to  Zembla's  or 
Spitzbergen's  only,  had  fallen  from  the  extremity  of  the  for 
ward  bend  of  the  southern  shore,  and  lay  somewhat  down 
stream,  with  its  huge  twisted  roots  standing  erect  and  grisly,  a 
huge  matted  cheval-de-frize  at  the  water's  brink,  and  its  great 
gnarled  and  knotted  branches  partly  imbedded  in  the  mud, 
partly  overhanging  the  shallow  which  itself  had  created  with 
a  canopy  of  moss  and  river-weeds,  and  all  the  trash  accumu 
lated  from  a  hundred  floods  and  freshets. 

Immediately  below  this,  and  so  well  concealed  as  to  be  in 
visible  to  a  casual  observer,  lay  moored  a  birch-canoe  of  the 
elegant  form  and  delicate  structure  of  the  vessels  of  the  abori 
gines,  and  in  it,  busily  employed  even  at  that  early  hour  in  en 
snaring  the  finny  denizens  of  the  waters,  sat  a  girl  of  some  six 
teen  or  seventeen  years,  whom  it  required  no  second  glance  to 
know  for  a  child  of  the  wilderness. 

It  is  well  known  to  those  who  have  been  in  the  habit  of  ob 
serving  the  North  American  tribes  in  their  natural  state,  re 
moved  from  the  contamination  to  which  they  now  seem  almost 
inevitably  subject  on  the  slightest  contact  with  the  whites,  that, 


THE    INDIAN    GIRL.  321 

despite  the  detractions  of  color  and  of  an  uncouth  and  uncome 
ly  costume,  there  is  often,  not  only  a  rare  beauty,  but  a  rare 
fascination  about  the  younger  Indian  females,  although  it  may 
not  at  the  same  time  be  denied,  that  were  a  painter  in  search 
of  a  model,  wherefrom  to  design  with  the  most  vraisemblance 
the  likeness  of  his  majesty  of  the  infernal  regions,  he  could  not 
do  better  than  to  select  an  old  squaw,  of  it  matters  not  what 
tribe,  and  his  type  of  the  hideous,  the  repulsive,  and  the  horri 
ble,  must  needs  be  perfect. 

The  girl  in  question  was  slender,  delicate,  and  elastic  as  a 
reed  swaying  in  the  currents  of  a  gentle  breeze,  and  what  is 
unusual  among  the  aborigines,  the  females  of  whom  are  in 
clined  to  be  squat  and  dwarfish,  was  considerably  above  the 
ordinary  stature  even  of  white  girls,  while  all  the  outlines  of 
her  graceful  yet  voluptuous  figure,  displayed  a  perfect  unison 
of  all  the  lithe  and  fragile  symmetry  of  girlish  years  with  the 
mature  developments  of  perfect  womanhood. 

Her  brow  and  face  were  dark,  but  not  much  darker  than  I 
have  seen  in  the  liquid-eyed  damas  of  Venice,  or  the  stately 
Spanish  donnas,  and  the  rich  blood  crimsoned  her  full,  pouting 
lips,  and  flushed,  peach-like,  through  the  golden  hue  of  her 
cheeks,  with  as  warm  a  tide  as  ever  burned  in  the  impassioned 
cheeks  of  an  Anglo-Norman  beauty. 

Her  long,  straight  hair,  not  curling  in  the  least,  nor  waving, 
nor  yet  in  the  slightest  degree  hard  or  wiry,  fell  down  behind 
her  small  ears,  being  braided  in  front  in  two  broad  bands  over 
the  temples,  and  confined  by  a  fillet  or  coronal  of  blue  and 
white  wampum,  stitched  upon  a  thong  of  deer-skin,  in  loose, 
heavy,  soft,  flowing  masses,  such  as  we  see  in  some  of  the 
portraits  of  Velasquez  and  other  Spanish  masters.  It  was  of 
the  deepest  and  most  perfect  blackness,  black  as  ebony  or  as 
night,  without  the  slightest,  indication  of  that  purplish  metallic 
lustre  which  generally  plays  over  what  is  not  unfitly  called 

14* 


322          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

raven  hair  in  women  of  white  blood,  and  more  especially  in 
those  of  Irish  race.  Her  eyes  had  the  long,  almond-shaped 
orbits,  and  long-fringed  lashes,  which  are  deemed  the  rarest 
charm  of  Italian  beauty,  and  the  large,  soft  pupils  of  the  deep 
est,  clearest  hazel,  swam  in  a  field  of  nacry  bluish  lustre, 
which  could  be  compared  to  nothing  but  the  finest  mother-of- 
pearl. 

Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  at  the  moment  when  we  look  upon, 
and  her  bright  lips  disparted  with  a  gay  smile,  as  she  pulled  in, 
each  after  each,  the  glittering  rock-bass,  resplendent  in  their 
golden  armor,  and  watched  these  trophies  of  her  prowess  flap 
ping  in  the  bottom  of  her  canoe,  till  the  gay  sheen  of  their 
scaly  coats  faded  into  the  dull,  blank  hues  of  death.  And  as 
those  bright  lips  fell  asunder  in  her  mood  of  gentle  merriment, 
they  displayed  a  set  of  teeth  so  brilliant,  so  delicately  pure 
and  transparent  in  their  undefiled  enamel,  that  the  most  gor 
geous  belle  of  courts  and  cities  would  have  given  the  best 
jewels  she  possessed  in  exchange  for  those  gems  of  nature's 
giving. 

Her  features,  if  they  had  not  the  regular  and  perfect  sym 
metry,  the  complete  oval  contour,  and  the  short-arched, 
wreathed  upper  lip  of  the  Greek  profile,  nor  yet  the  high 
born,  glorious  dignity  of  the  superb  Norman  type,  had  yet  a 
harmony  and  unison  entirely  their  own,  a  soft,  tranquil,  half- 
unconscious  majesty  of  stillness  —  something  that  leads  you  to 
revert  your  thoughts  to  older  worlds,  or  at  least  ages  more  re 
mote,  when  this  earth  was  haply  peopled  by  tribes  less  far  re 
moved  from  the  awful  serenity  of  the  immortals,  such  as  sits  to 
this  hour  wonderfully  enthroned  on  the  calm  brow  and  solemn, 
tranquil  beauty  of  the  Egyptian  sphynx. 

Yet  in  this  solemn  fixedness  of  feature,  this  serene  serious 
ness  of  outline,  there  was  nothing  lewd  or  unwomanly  ;  for  in 
so  much  as  the  outlines  were  statuesque  and  grave,  the  eyes 


THE    INDIAN    GIRL.  323 

wildly  serious,  was  the  expression  at  times  arch  and  almost 
jocund,  and  the  smile  of  the  wreathed  and  dimpled  lips  all  that 
could  be  desired  of  winning,  feminine,  and  tender. 

It  is  remarkable,  too,  that  although  habituated  more  or  less, 
as  all  Indian  females  must  necessarily  be,  to  labors  of  a  harder 
and  more  abject  nature  than  are  attributed  even  to  the  poorest 
and  rudest  American  females  of  the  white  race,  her  hands 
were  as  delicate  and  small,  with  slight,  round,  tapering  fingers, 
and  long,  oval  nails,  as  those  of  any  princess  of  unmixed  Nor 
man  race.  Her  moccasined  feet,  too,  were  delicately  and 
proportionately  small,  not  "  cribbed,  cabined,  and  confined" — 
like  those  of  many  of  our  modern  damsels,  who,  in  this,  appear 
to  imitate  the  high  castes  of  the  Chinese  —  till  she  could  neither 
stand  nor  go,  but  betokening  at  once  delicacy  of  structure  and 
fitness  for  the  purposes  to  which  they  were  created  by  that 
Providence  which  assuredly  never  made  aught  except  unto  its 
end. 

Her  dress  was  peculiar,  for  it  indicated  that,  even  in  that 
remote  angle  of  the  northern  wilderness,  thousands  of  miles 
aloof  from  the  small  and  recent  seaboard  settlements  of  the 
whites,  white  luxuries  were  attainable  for  the  gratification  of 
female  vanity.  The  tiara  of  wampum  about  her  head  was  not 
the  shell-manufactured  wampum  of  the  natives,  but  of  fine  blue 
and  white  Parisian  bead-work.  Her  principal  garment  was  a 
short  petticoat,  or  tunic,  not  unlike  that  of  the  huntress  Diana, 
leaving  the  right  breast  exposed,  and  barely  reaching  to  the 
knee,  of  bright  azure  broadcloth,  with  a  shoulder  belt,  girdle, 
and  fringe  of  bead-work.  Her  lower  limbs  were  protected  by 
leggings  of  dressed  deer-skin,  as  finely  wrought  as  the  most 
costly  texture  of  the  Flemish  or  English  looms,  and  her  feet 
covered  by  moccasins,  elaborately  embroidered  with  dyed 
horse-hair,  which  must  evidently  have  been  brought  a  long 
distance  from  the  eastward,  since  the  gigantic  animal  which 


324          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

furnishes  it  so  rarely  found  to  the  southwestward  of  the  great 
Canadian  Ottawa,  that  it  may  be  held  to  be  unknown  in  those 
regions. 

Such  was  Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng,  or  the  Reed- 
shaken-by-the-wind,  the  fatal  heroine  of  a  disastrous  legend  ; 
the  fairest  daughter  of  Chingwauk,  the  White  Pine,  the  great 
chief  of  the  Ojibwas,  cast  by  singular  fortunes,  and  strange 
ends,  into  a  region  many  hundred  leagues  to  the  northwest  of 
the  hunting-grounds  of  her  tribesmen. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    JESUIT. 

THE  morning  wore  on  calmly,  brightly,  and  the  sun,  whose 
long,  upward  rays  had  been  for  above  an  hour  streaming  to 
ward  the  zenith,  above  the  waving  tree-tops,  now  raised  the 
upper  limb  of  his  bright  disk  above  the  rich  green  foliage,  and 
poured  a  flood  of  golden  lustre  directly  downward  into  the 
woodland  channel  of  the  stream,  and  lighted  its  translucent 
Avaters  down  to  its  depths  of  gravelly  sand,  and  long  river- 
weeds  fantastically  curling  in  the  gentle  current.  Up  to  this 
time  the  maiden  had  sat  nearly  motionless  in  her  light  bark 
canoe,  scarcely  stirring  a  limb,  unless  to  draw  in  another  and 
another  of  her  scaly  captives,  to  renew  her  bait  upon  the 
barbed  steel  hook  —  fresh  evidence,  by  the  way,  of  acquaint 
ance  with  the  whites  —  and  to  cast  out  her  line  again  into  the 
little  eddy  among  the  branches  of  the  submerged  trees  in  which 
the  fish  appeared  to  rejoice  especially. 

Now,  however,  the  sun  shooting  his  beams  downward,  the 
fish  began  to  show  themselves  indisposed  to  bite  so  freely  as 


THE    FOREST    SILENCE    BROKEN.  325 

before,  and  very  soon  refused  altogether  to  take  the  deceptive 
lure,  whether  that  the  increase  of  light  enabled  them  the  bet 
ter  to  descry  the  shining  artifice,  or  that  the  movements  of  the 
waving  shadows  on  the  surface,  whenever  the  fair  angler 
moved  her  hand,  betrayed  her  whereabouts,  and  scared  them 
from  the  tempting  morsel. 

The  girl,  seeing  that  for  the  present  there  was  no  more 
sport  to  be  had,  was  already  busied  in  taking  apart  her  light 
tackle,  winding  up  her  line  on  a  delicately-wrought  wooden 
reel,  and  securing  her  priceless  hook  ;  and  that  task  ended,  had 
already  lifted  her  paddle  from  the  bottom  of  the  canoe  in  order 
to  alter  her  position,  when  almost  simultaneously  two  widely 
different,  and,  in  that  deep  solitude,  most  unaccustomed  sounds 
disturbed  the  silence  of  the  forest. 

The  first  of  these,  in  point  of  time,  was  the  near  report  of 
one  of  the  lighter  firearms  of  that  day,  such  as  were  used  in 
the  most  civilized  countries  of  Europe  in  the  chase,  and  known 
as  carabines,  or  birding-pieces,  and  that  the  weapon  had  not 
been  discharged  in  vain,  was  proved  by  the  plunge  of  a  beau 
tiful  summer  duck,  the  handsomest  of  all  the  aquatic  fowls, 
from  its  perch  on  the  projecting  branch  of  a  tall  white-oak,  into 
the  water  beneath,  on  the  surface  of  which  it  struggled  impo- 
tently  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  lay  motionless  and  life 
less,  dying  the  slow  ripples  with  a  large  patch  of  dark  gore 
from  its  bill,  gasping  now  no  longer. 

The  other  sound  was  the  deep,  melancholy,  silver  tone  of  a 
large  bell  floating  down  the  light  air,  and  down  the  channel  of 
the  river,  from  a  short  distance  toward  the  uplands  —  a  bell 
so  singularly  soft  and  sweet,  so  serenely  musical  and  melodi 
ous,  that  its  cadences  would  have  been  remarked  for  their 
wild,  sonorous  swell,  and  long-drawn  fall,  even  in  populous 
cities,  where  all  the  arts  are  called  into  play,  to  minister  not  to 
the  necessaries  only,  but  to  the  luxuries  of  life.  In  that  wild 


326  AHSAIIGUMJSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

region,  therefore,  untrodden  as  one  would  have  been  prompt 
to  believe  by  any  steps  save  those  of  the  prowling  wild  beast 
or  the  heathen  and  untutored  savage,  how  singularly  exquisite 
seemed  that  slow  and  solemn  harmony — that  harmony  pecu 
liarly  the  utterance  of  civilization,  of  humanity,  of  the  innocent 
and  pure  religion  of  the  white  man — he  and  he  only  can 
judge  aright,  who,  after  wandering,  after  sojourning,  far  aloof 
from  the  haunts  of  men,  comes  suddenly  upon  the  traces  of  the 
ploughshare  and  the  axe,  and  pausing  on  the  verge  of  some 
small  forest-clearing,  listens,  astonished  half,  and  all  enrap 
tured,  to  the  familiar  music,  long  unheard  of,  the  old  village- 
bells. 

There  is  no  sound  on  earth  by  which  the  human  soul  is  rapt 
so  suddenly  away  from  the  present  scene,  from  the  present 
train  of  thoughts,  yea,  from  its  very  self,  and  all  the  strongest 
of  its  secret  aspirations,  to  the  long  past,  the  long-forgotten,  as 
the  music  of  a  distant  bell  heard  in  the  wilderness.  Often 
times,  when  I,  wandering  as  I  have  imagined  very  far  from 
the  nearest  settlement  among  the  gigantic  pines  and  venerable 
silence  of  the  western  Canadian  forest,  have  been  surprised 
from  myself,  and  charmed  away  to  scenes  far  beyond  the  wild- 
rolling  Atlantic,  to  the  green  hills  and  gentle  pastures  of  my 
childhood's  home,  even  by  the  wild  and  inharmonious  clank 
of  a  cow-bell,  gathering  I  know  not  what  of  romance,  and  even 
melody  from  the  accompanying  scenery  and  circumstances, 
and  wafting  back  the  willing  mind  from  savage  solitude  to  old 
civilization. 

At  the  first  sound,  the  long,  re-echoing  gun-shot,  the  girl 
started,  and  after  gazing  earnestly,  and  with  something  of 
anxiety  in  her  eye  toward  the  direction  whence  it  came, 
dropped  the  blade  of  her  paddle  noiselessly  into  the  water, 
and  by  a  dexterous  turn  of  the  wrist,  sent  the  head  of  the  canoe 
gliding  swift  and  easy  as  a  bird  through  the  air  into  the  little 


CHURCH-BELL    IN    THE    WILDERNESS.  327 

eddy  among  the  boughs  of  the  fallen  tree.  Another  and  an 
other  sweep  of  the  light  paddle,  delivered  all  so  dexterously 
that  not  a  plash  could  be  detected  as  the  blade  entered  or  left 
the  water,  forced  it  out  clear  into  the  glassy  current  above  the 
obstacle  which  seemed  to  bar  its  way,  so  that  before  five  sec 
onds  had  elapsed  from  the  occurrence  of  the  alarm,  if  such  it 
were  to  be  considered,  the  light  vessel  had  shot  with  its  fair 
freight,  six  times  its  own  length  up  the  stream,  and  was  glan 
cing  over  the  creeping  eddies  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  bank, 
like  a  creature  endowed  with  volition  and  swift  self-motion. 

At  the  next  instant  the  deep  tone  of  the  bell  swelled  upon 
her  ear — again  —  again  —  again  —  clearly  the  Christian's  sum 
mons  to  the  worship  of  his  God. 

And  yet  who  would  have  deemed  that  in  that  lonely  and  re 
mote  corner  of  the  wilderness,  at  that  far-distant  period,  when 
the  very  discovery  of  the  New  World,  as  men  called  it,  was 
but  recent,  and  the  most  satisfactory  attempts  at  its  coloniza 
tion  as  yet  but  an  experiment,  who  would  have  deemed  it  pos 
sible  that  the  God  of  nature  should  have  been  worshipped  other 
wise  than  by  the  free  and  natural  influences  of  the  outward 
world,  by  the  grateful  choirs  of  the  rejoicing  songsters  of  the 
woodland,  by  the  rich  incense  of  the  flowers  ascending  toward 
heaven  on  the  wings  of  the  morning  dew,  by  the  instinctive, 
vague,  and  untutored  emotions  which  dwell  even  in  the  breast 
of  the  wild  native  of  the  wilderness  ? 

Who  should  have  reared  a  house  to  the  King,  Creator, 
Savior  of  the  universe,  a  house  raised  with  hands  in  the  howl 
ing  wilderness,  or  hung  aloft  that  silver-tongued  appellant, 
summoning  all  those  who  are  heavy-laden  to  cast  down  their 
burthens  at  the  foot  of  that  cross  by  which  alone  they  should 
find  penitence,  and  peace,  and  pardon  ? 

By  whom  could  it,  indeed,  have  been  raised,  by  whom 
sanctified,  by  whom  daily  administered  among  toils,  and  woes, 


328          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENO. 

and  perils,  such  as  scarce  any  of  the  sons  of  men,  since  the 
first  martyrs  of  the  earliest  Christian  era,  have  encountered, 
save  by  the  members  of  that  wonderful,  that  self-denying  order, 
the  policy  of  which,  sacrificing  all  individuality,  all  personal 
independence,  all  power,  all  pleasure,  all  ambition  of  the  single 
man,  had  exalted  the  society  of  Jesus  into  a  unity  so  complete, 
so  unassailable,  and  so  puissant,  that  kings  and  pontiffs  equal 
ly  submitted  to  its  dictation,  equally  shrank  from  disputing  its 
gigantic  dominion,  or  holding  out  against  its  masterly  organ 
ization. 

The  word  Jesuit  has  been  used  too  often  in  our  protestant 
language  to  signify  the  very  embodiment  and  personification 
of  bigotry,  cruelty,  artifice,  deception,  all,  in  short,  that  is 
known  as  priestcraft,  and  that  of  the  most  odious  and  intol 
erant  description,  until  men  have  forgotten  how  much  of  good 
mingled  with  evil  there  has  existed  from  the  beginning  in  the 
history  of  Jesuitism,  and  how  much  the  civilized  world,  and 
the  world  of  North  America  more  particularly,  is  indebted  to 
these  enthusiastic  missionaries,  these  self-denying  teachers  of 
the  savage,  these  undaunted  explorers  of  the  wilderness. 

"  When  the  Jesuits,"  says  Macuulay,  an  authority  not  to  be 
doubted  or  disputed,  when  he  appears  as  the  eulogist  either 
of  the  church  of  England  or  the  church  of  Rome,  to  both  of 
which  he  bears  the  genuine  hatred  of  the  radical  dissenter, 
"  came  to  the  rescue  of  the  papacy,  they  found  it  in  extreme 
peril ;  but  from  that  time  the  tide  of  battle  turned.  Protestant 
ism,  which  had  during  a  whole  generation  carried  all  before  it, 
was  stopped  in  its  progress  and  rapidly  beaten  back  from  the 
foot  of  the  Alps  to  the  shores  of  the  Baltic.  Before  the  order 
had  existed  a  hundred  years,  it  had  filled  the  whole  world  with 
memorials  of  great  things  done  and  suffered  for  the  faith.  No 
religious  community  could  produce  a  list  of  men  so  variously 
distinguished  ;  none  had  extended  its  operations  over  so  vast 


THE    JESUITS.  329 

a  space  ;  yet  in  none  had  there  ever  been  such  perfect  unity 
of  feeling  and  action.  There  was  no  region  of  the  globe,  no 
walk  of  speculative  or  active  life  in  which  Jesuits  were  not  to 
be  found.  They  guided  the  councils  of  kings.  They  deci 
phered  Latin  inscriptions.  They  observed  the  motion  of  Jupi 
ter's  satellites.  They  published  whole  libraries,  controversy, 
casuistry,  history,  treatises  on  optics,  alcaic  odes,  editions  of 
the  fathers,  madrigals,  catechisms,  lampoons.  The  liberal 
education  of  youth  passed  almost  entirely  into  their  hands,  and 
was  conducted  by  them  with  conspicuous  ability.  They  ap 
pear  to  have  discovered  the  precise  point  to  which  intellectual 
culture  can  be  carried  without  risk  of  intellectual  emancipa 
tion.  Enmity  itself  was  compelled  to  own  that  in  the  art  of 
managing  and  forming  the  tender  mind  they  had  no  equals. 
Meanwhile  they  assiduously  and  successfully  cultivated  the 
eloquence  of  the  pulpit.  With  still  greater  assiduity  and  still 
greater  success,  they  applied  themselves  to  the  ministry  of  the 
confessional.  Throughout  catholic  Europe  the  secrets  of  every 
government,  and  of  almost  every  family  of  note,  were  in  their 
keeping.  They  glided  from  one  protestant  country  to  another 
under  innumerable  disguises,  as  gay  cavaliers,  as  simple  rus 
tics,"  as  puritan  preachers.  They  wandered  to  countries  which 
neither  mercantile  avidity  nor  liberal  curiosity  had  ever  im 
pelled  any  stranger  to  explore.  They  were  to  be  found  in  the 
garb  of  mandarins  superintending  the  observatory  at  Pekin. 
They  were  to  be  found,  spade  in  hand,  teaching  the  rudiments 
of  agriculture  to  the  savages  of  Paraguay.  Yet,  whatever 
might  be  their  residence,  whatever  might  be  their  employment, 
their  spirit  was  the  same,  entire  devotion  to  the  common  cause, 
implicit  obedience  to  the  central  authority. 

"  None  of  them  had  chosen  his  dwelling-place,  or  his  avo 
cation  for  himself.  Whether  the  Jesuit  should  live  under  the 
arctic  circle,  or  under  the  equator,  whether  he  should  pass  his 


330  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

life  in  arranging  gems  or  callating  manuscripts  in  the  Vatican, 
or  in  persuading  naked  barbarians  in  the  southern  hemisphere, 
not  to  eat  one  another,  were  matters  which  he  left  with  pro 
found  submission  to  the  decision  of  others.  If  he  was  wanted 
at  Lima,  he  was  on  the  Atlantic  in  the  next  fleet.  If  he  was 
wanted  at  Bagdad,  he  was  toiling  through  the  desert  with  the 
next  caravan.  If  his  ministry  was  needed  in  some  country 
where  his  life  was  more  insecure  than  that  of  the  wolf,  where 
it  was  a  crime  to  harbor  him,  where  the  heads  and  quarters  of 
his  brethren  fixed  in  the  public  places,  showed  him  what  he 
had  to  expect,  he  went  without  remonstrance  or  hesitation  to 
his  doom.  Nor  is  this  heroic  spirit  yet  extinct.  When  in 
our  time,  a  new  and  terrible  pestilence  passed  round  the  globe, 
when  in  some  great  cities  fear  had  dissolved  all  the  ties  which 
held  society  together,  when  the  secular  clergy  had  deserted 
their  flocks,  when  medical  succor  was  not  to  be  purchased 
with  gold,  when  the  strongest  natural  affections  had  yielded  to 
the  love  of  life,  even  then  the  Jesuit  was  found  by  the  pallet, 
which  bishop  and  curate,  physician  and  nurse,  father  and  moth 
er  had  deserted,  bending  over  infected  lips  to  catch  the  faint 
accents  of  confession,  and  holding  up  to  the  last  before  the  ex 
piring  penitent,  the  image  of  the  inspiring  Redeemer." 

Admirable  indeed  were  the  exertions,  the  virtues,  and  the 
sufferings  of  many,  very  many  of  these  great  and  good  men, 
and  if  an  over-enthusiasm  for  the  good  of  their  own  order, 
and  for  what  they  honestly  believed  to  be  the  greater  glory  of 
God,  did  at  times  in  the  Old  World  —  as  most  assuredly  it  did 
— lead  them  into  tortuous  policy,  entangle  them  in  the  sophis 
tical  casuistries  of  cabinets,  and  the  perilous  intrigues  of  courts, 
if  it  did  lead  them  too  often  to  regard  the  expedient  rather  than 
the  good,  and  to  permit  and  sanction  of  the  doing  of  evil  that 
haply  good  might  come  of  it,  no  such  stigma  rests  upon  their 
memories  in  this  hemisphere,  aloof  from  court  intrigues  and 


JESUIT    MISSIONARIES    IN    AMERICA.  331 

• 

cabinet  ambition.  Here  they  were  the  civilizers  only,  the  dis 
coverers,  the  colonists,  the  fertilizers  of  the  boundless  waste  — 
the  friends,  the  teachers,  the  Christianizers,  and,  alas  !  but  too 
often  the  martyrs  of  the  stern  and  savage  red  man. 

The  falls  of  the  farthest  western  rivers,  from  Niagara  to  the 
head-waters  of  the  Mississippi  and  the  foaming  rapids  of  the 
Sault  St.  Marie,  the  forest  and  the  prairie,  yea !  the  ice-bound 
pinnacles  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  were  familiar  to  their  wan 
dering  footsteps ;  and  before  commerce  or  agriculture  had 
begun  to  hold  dominion  along  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic,  they 
were  felling  the  trees  of  the  wilderness  far  to  the  northward 
of  the  great  lakes,  choosing  their  stations  with  rare  sagacity 
—  for  there  be  now  but  few  of  them  which  are  not  the  sites  of 
great  and  prosperous  cities  —  and  sowing  in  the  breasts  of 
their  Indian  neophytes  that  good  seed  of  faith,  which  should 
lead  by  grace  of  the  Most  High  unto  eternal  life. 

They  it  was,  then,  who  had  built  their  fort,  not  so  much 
against  human  foes,  as  against  the  arch-enemy  of  man,  upon 
the  northern  bank  of  the  gentle  Wye,  who  had  gathered  about 
the  palisades  of  their  Mission  a  small  but  faithful  congregation 
of  the  Iroquois  or  Hurons  of  the  Lakes,  and  passed  their  lives 
in  innocence  and  peace  "  in  that  vast  contiguity  of  shade," 
wresting  by  degrees  orchards,  and  gardens,  and  green  fields, 
from  the  dominion  of  the  forest ;  rescuing  by  degrees,  from  the 
mists  and  thick  darkness  of  ignorance  and  belief,  the  souls  of 
their  dark-skinned  brethren. 

Their  bell  it  was  which  now  resounded  so  sadly,  solemnly 
sweet  through  the  dim  aisles  of  the  forest,  and  over  the  sur 
face  of  the  long-resounding  waters  —  truly  their  silver  bell  — 
its  cadences  are  familiar  to  my  ears,  for  it  has  survived  those 
who  brought  it  hither  to  proclaim  the  glad  tidings  of  the  Gos 
pel,  it  has  survived  their  very  destroyers,  and  now,  when  the 
sons  of  a  different  race  hold  the  soil  which  whilom  they  cul- 


332  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

tivated,  when  a  different  language  is  spoken  in  their  abiding- 
places,  it  still  hangs  aloft  above  a  Christian  place  of  worship, 
though  not  of  their  faith  who  then  woke  its  mellow  cadences, 
still  summons  those  who  believe  to  the  altar  of  the  same  God, 
one   and  eternal,  and  the   same  for  ever,  whom  the  French 
Jesuit  adored  when  its  first  appeal  awakened  the  forest  echoes. 
As  the  girl  caught  the  pleasant  sounds  of  the  church-bell,  a 
well-pleased  smile  lighted  up  her  gentle  features,  and  the  un 
easy  expression  passed  away  from  her,  as  the  shadow  of  ; 
cloud  is  chased  from  a  landscape  by  the  sunny  gleam,  as  she 
made  her  light  bark  literally  almost  fly  under  the  measured 
strokes  of  her  fairy  paddle.     She  had  already  doubled  the  first 
bend  of  the  river,  and,  keeping  well  in  toward  the  bank  by 
which  she  had  been  fishing,  had  interposed  the  wooded  point 
between  herself  and  any  curious  eyes,  which  might  be  watch 
ing  her  from  below,  when  a  tall  young  Indian,  clad  in  hunting- 
shirt,  leggins,  and  moccasins  of  dressed  deer-skin,  and  carrying 
a  long  gun  in  his  hand,  made  his  appearance  on  the  same  side 
of  the   stream,  some  ten  or  twelve  yards  at  most  below  the 
place  where  the  maiden  was  fishing,  when  the  shot  was  fired, 
and  applied  himself  at  once  to  the  recovery  of  the  game  he 
had  killed.     This  did  not  occupy  him  many  seconds,  as  the 
current  had  set  the  dead  bird  in  shore,  and  his  quick  eye  de 
tected  it  in  an  instant,  as  it  lay  among  the  outer  twigs  of  a  red- 
alder  bush  which  overhung  the  stream.     As  he  picked.it  up, 
however,  he  did  not  fail  to  observe  that  a  ripple  different  in  it 
character  from  the  regular  run  of  the   waters,  broke  on  the 
sand-bank  at  his  feet,  and  turning  his  glance  instinctively  up 
stream,  although  it  was  already  fast  subsiding  into  its  wonted 
stillness,  he  was  .not  long  in  satisfying  himself  that  a  canoe 
had  passed  up  the  Wye,  and  that  within  a  few  minutes. 

Bounding  forward,  almost  with  the  speed  of  a  hunted  deer, 
he  gained  the  point  in  a  moment,  and  running  out  upon  the 


THE    INIDAN    CHIEF.  333 

slippery  trunk  of  the  fallen  oak-tree,  by  the  side  of  which  the 
girl's  canoe  had  been  made  fast,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  as 
she  emerged  from  the  cover  of  the  foliage,  and  glided  steadily 
upward  across  the  next  reach  of  the  river. 

"The  Reed-shaken-by-the-wind,"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
h?.lf  thoughtfully,  while  a  bright  and  pleasurable  expression 
crossed  his  features,  and  then  tossing  up  his  arm,  he  uttered  a 
long  whoop  to  attract  her  notice,  and  as  she  turned  her  head 
to  the  perhaps  unwelcome  sound,  beckoned  her  to  return  and 
take  him  on  board. 

But  the  girl,  uttering  a  low  cry  in  return,  as  soft  and  har 
monious  as  his  was  dissonant  and  savage,  shook  her  head  half- 
coquettishly,  half-resolutely,  and  pointing  ahead  with  her  pad 
dle  to  the  quarter  whence  the  chime  of  the  bell  now  came 
faster  and  more  frequent,  urged  her  light  vessel  ahead  with 
renewed  exertion,  and  in  less  than  a  minute  shot  round  the 
turn  of  the  verdurous  banks  and  was  lost  to  his  view. 

The  Indian,  who  was  evidently  a  chief,  from  the  excellent 
condition  of  his  garments  and  accoutrements,  as  well  as  from 
his  richly-ornamented  weapons,  was   clearly  disconcerted ;  a 
gloom  fell  over  his   dusky  features,  and  he  frowned  deeply. 
Had  he  been  a  white  man,  he  would  probably  have  given  vent 
to  his  disappointment  in  an  oath,  but  it  is  remarkable  that  blas 
phemy  against  the   Author  of  his  existence  is  peculiar  to  the 
cultivated  and  Christian  white  man,  there  being  no  oath  or  im 
precation  to  be  found  in  the  vocabulary  of  any  Indian  tribe, 
even  of  those  who  pay  respect  and  sacrifice,  for  the  averting 
of  his  wrath,  to  the  Spirit  of  Evil.      He  restrained  himself  for 
a  moment  or  two,  and  stood  apparently  in  thought.     "  Good  !" 
he  said  at  length,  speaking  in  his  own  tongue.     "  Girl  gone 
to  French  fathers.      Very  much    love   hear   French   fathers. 
Love  too  much,  maybe.     Bald-Eagle  go  too.     Hear  what  say 
—  see  what  do  — then  know  what  think,  too."     And  attaching 


334  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

the  summer-duck  to  a  bunch  of  several  other  water-fowl,  which 
he  had  slung  from  his  waist-belt,  he  set  off  through  the  open 
forest  on  the  upland  at  the  long,  loping-trot  for  which  the  In 
dians  are  so  famous,  and  which  enables  them  to  get  over  the 
ground  so  rapidly,  when  on  their  hunts  or  on  the  war-path. 

Meanwhile,  Ahsahgunushk  had  kept  on  her  way  paddling 
swiftly  and  silently,  until  she  had  rounded  two  more  points  of 
the  shore,  and  had  come  into  view  of  the  Jesuit  settlement  and 
its  clearings,  lying  fair  to  the  long  slant  beams  of  the  morning 
sun,  sparkling  with  the  dew-drops  of  the  past  night,  as  they 
hung  diamond-like  on  the  rustling  leaves  of  the  tall  maize,  or 
gemmed  the  tedded  grass  of  the  luxuriant  meadows. 

The  little  opening  in  the  forest  which  had  been  reclaimed 
by  the  patient  industry  of  the  fathers   from  the   solitude   and 
wildness  of  the  woods,  contained  about  a  hundred  acres  of  up 
land,  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  bounded  on  the  lower  side  by 
the  skirts  of  the  primeval  woodland,  and  extending  upward  to 
the  edge  of  a  natural  wet   savanna,  which  soon  degenerated 
into  rice   swamp,   through  many  a  mile   of  which  the  river 
wound  its  devious  way  from  the  distant  highlands.     It  was  a 
tranquil  and  a  beautiful  scene,  and  one  by  no  means  destitute 
of  refined  ornament  and  the  decorations  of  civilized  life.     The 
buildings  of  the  Mission  lay,  as  it  has  been  stated,  on  the  north 
shore  of  the  river,  just  where  a  large  brook,  after  running  for 
some  hundred  yards  directly  parallel  to  the   river,  turned  at 
right  angles  to  its  former  course,  and  discharges  a  strong  and 
rapid  stream  rushing  impetuously  through  a  deep  ravine  which 
forms  two  sides  of  a  parallelogram.     Of  this  accidental  forma 
tion  of  the  soil,  the  Jesuits,  who  possessed  no  slight  degree 
of  knowledge  in  both  military  and  civil  engineering,  had  taken 
advantage  for  the  erection  of  their  post,  a  bank  having  been 
thrown  up  along  the  inner  line  of  this  natural  foss,  with  a 
strong  though  irregularly  built  stone  tower  in  the  angle.    From 


THE    JESUIT    SETTLEMENT.  335 

the  upper  end  of  the  longer  limb  of  the  ravine  a  wide  ditch, 
with  a  high  interior  bank,  ran  parallel  to  the  outlet  of  the  brook 
with  a  circular  bastion  or  redoubt  at  the  upper  angle,  where  it 
again  turned  westerly  until  it  terminated  in  a  third  redoubt  at 
the  junction  of  the  brook  with  the  river,  the  whole  forming  a 
large,  oblong  enclosure,  with  a  length  of  about  three  hundred 
yards  to  the  river  face,  and  a  depth  of  about  one  third  that  dis 
tance,  the  banks  all  round  being  garnished  by  a  massive  row 
of  cedar  palisades  of  fifteen  feet  in  height,  well  braced  toge 
ther,  and  looped  for  musketry,  besides  being  defended  at  the 
top  by  a  strong  cheval-de-frize,  manufactured  in  the  forge 
which  the  energetic  priests  had  established  and  maintained 
within  their  guarded  precincts. 

Each  of  the  redoubts  was  armed  with  two  small  brass  swiv 
el-guns,  of  the  kind  at  that  time  known  as  "  grasshoppers," 
something  similar  to  what  are  now  used  in  India  under  the 
name  of  wall-pieces,  capable  of  carrying  balls  only  of  a  pound 
or  two  calibre,  but  still  useful  for  the  defence  of  slight,  irregular 
works  against  tumultuary  force,  such  as  Indians,  inasmuch  as 
they  could  sweep  all  the  curtains  with  a  hail  of  musket-bullets, 
which  the  red  warriors  would  be  most  unapt  to  endure. 

Within  this  rude  and  rustic  fortification,  for  the  cedar-posts, 
or  trunks  of  which  it  was  manufactured,  were  in  their  natural 
rough  condition  all  gnarled  and  knotted,  overgrown  with  moss, 
and  in  part  overrun  with  ivy  and  various  creepers,  were  the 
buildings  of  the  Mission  which  consisted  of  an  interior  paral 
lelogram,  made  of  square  logs,  dove-tailed  one  into  the  other, 
to  the  height  of  two  stories,  with  no  windows  or  apertures  of 
any  kind  to  the  exterior,  except  one  large,  two-leaved  gate, 
giving  access  to  the  court  within,  which  opened  directly  oppo 
site  to  the  entrance  in  face  of  the  palisades,  under  a  great 
tower,  fashioned  like  a  modern  block-house,  with  the  upper 


336          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENO. 

floors  overhanging  substructure  and  surmounted  by  the  belfry, 
whence  pealed  that  sonorous  and  widely-venerated  bell. 

The  buildings  contained  a  chapel  and  library,  occupying  the 
whole  front  of  the  square  opening  to  the  right  and  left  of  the 
entrance  archway,  which  was  protected  by  strong  double-doors 
of  hewn  timber.  On  the  opposite  side  was  the  refectory  on 
the  ground-floor,  and  the  dormitory  of  the  father  above,  while 
the  two  ends  of  the  court  were  occupied  by  kitchens  and 
workshops  for  the  carpenter,  the  smith,  the  cooper,  with  stithy, 
and  turning-lathe,  and  tool-chests,  and  all  appliances  for  useful 
labor.  Store-houses,  and  a  dormitory  for  the  lay  brothers  were 
above  these,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  parellelogram  was  a  small 
armory,  well  stocked  with  the  firearms  of  the  day,  whether 
for  hunting  or  defence  —  swords,  pikes,  and  some  few  pieces 
of  defensive  armor  not  as  yet  entirely  disused,  as  morions,  or 
sallets,  or  gorgets,  for  the  protection  of  the  head  and  neck. 

For  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  Jesuits  were  of  that 
drone-like  breed  of  monks  who  vegetated  in  the  convents  of 
Italy,  or  the  hill-monasteries  of  Syria  and  the  Holy  Land. 
Not  they  —  these  were  practical,  shrewd,  able-bodied  men, 
men  of  science,  men  of  energy,  men  of  the  world  —  men  for 
bidden  by  the  rules  of  the  order  from  no  work  of  industry,  of 
energy,  or  of  skill,  which  might  tend  to  the  advancement  of 
science,  to  the  advancement  of  human  happiness,  above  all  to 
the  advancement  of  their  order.  They  were  the  men  neither 
to  be  devoured  unresisting  by  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forest,  nor 
to  be  tortured  passively  by  its  yet  wilder  human  denizens  — 
they  were  navigators,  hunters,  agriculturists,  fishers,  antiqua 
rians,  naturalists  ;  they  were  the  tamers  of  the  forest  no  less 
than  the  teachers  of  the  Indian  —  and  not  a  few  of  them  had 
been  soldiers  already,  and  had  served  with  the  carnal  arm  in 
the  fierce  religious  wars  of  Spain  and  France  and  the  Low 
Countries,  nor  would  be  apt  to  withdraw  their  hands  now  from 


THE    JESUIT    SETTLEMENT.  337 

the  sword's  hilt,  should  it  be  necessary  to  do  battle  for  the  pro 
tection  of  their  own  lives,  the  safety  of  the  order,  and  the  de 
fence  of  the  settlement  they  had  planted  for  the  reclamation 
of  the  heathen,  the  salvation  of  souls,  and  the  greater  glory 
of  God. 

Without  the  palisades,  however,  though  all  within  was  strong 
and  stern,  and  guarded  with  powerful  mastiffs,  chained  to  their 
kennels  near  the  entrance,  and  a  stout  lay-brother  at  all  times 
on  duty  as  porter,  nor  ever  without  arms  in  reach,  there  was 
much  ornament  and  graceful  decoration.  On  the  lower  side 
of  the  fort,  as  it  is  still  termed,  for  the  outlines  of  the  banks 
and  fosses  are  still  plainly  discernible,  as  well  as  the  ruins  of 
the  casemated  stone  tower,  which  was  not  improbably  applied 
to  more  homely  purposes  in  the  preservation  of  their  roots  and 
vegetables  from  the  severe  frosts  of  the  Canadian  winter,  the 
undergrowth  of  the  forest  grew  up  close  to  the  farther  edge  of 
the  ravine,  for  although  in  the  first  instance  a  wise  precaution 
had  led  the  Jesuits  to  fell  the  timber,  so  as  to  form  an  open 
glacis  for  some  fifty  yards  beyond  their  palisades,  long  secu 
rity  had  in  some  sort  begotten  over-confidence,  and  the  brush 
wood  had  been  suffered  to  encroach  on  that  side  of  the  clear 
ing,  so  that  it  was  now  covered  with  a  dense  and  tangled 
thicket. 

In  front,  however,  between  the  stockade  and  the  river,  and 
around  the  upper  end  of  the  station  extending  back  so  far  as  to 
the  brook,  was  a  large  and  beautifully-kept  garden,  with  espa 
liers  thickly  framed  with  foreign  fruit-trees,  and  bowery  walks 
overshadowed  by  trellices  covered  with  both  native  and  im 
ported  vines,  and  amid  the  .deep  beds  of  pot-herbs,  salads,  and 
cresses,  and  leguminous  plants,  and  scarlet  French  beans  and 
lentils,  was  many  a  plat  of  flowers,  some  redeemed  from  their 
wild  state  by  sedulous  cultivation,  some  doubly  cherished  be 
cause  brought  from  the  far  and  happy  France,  filling  the  air 

15 


338  AIISAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENO. 

with  the  rich  musky  odor  of  the  roses  of  Provence,  and  greet 
ing  the  eye  with  the  gracious  show  of  the  fair  lilies,  the  chosen 
flower  of  France. 

Above  the  garden  again  was  a  large  orchard,  of  peach,  plum, 
apple,  and  pear,  which  though  not  large  trees  as  yet,  nor  hav 
ing  in  truth  had  time  to  become  so,  were  thrifty  and  in  good  con 
dition,  and  many  of  them  were  so  heavily  laden  with  fruit,  that 
there  could  be  no  doubt  it  would  be  necessary  to  prop  them 
up  in  order  to  sustain  their  full  weight  when  in  the  maturity 
of  autumn.  Rich  maize-fields  encircled  the  young  orchard, 
twinkling  in  the  sunshine  and  rustling  in  the  breeze,  with  a 
belt  of  rich  emerald  verdure,  and  again  beyond  these,  inter 
spersed  with  a  few  patches  of  rye,  wheat,  and  barley,  the  level 
green  meadows  pastured  by  a  small  flock  of  sheep,  and  two  or 
three  little  hardy  Norman  cows,  stretched  away  to  the  east 
ward,  till  they  were  lost  to  view  amid  the  rank  luxuriance  of 
the  rich  marshes. 

A  straight  walk  led  down  through  the  garden  from  the  gate 
of  the  mission  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  where  a  small  wharf 
or  jetty  had  been  erected,  at  which  lay  a  schooner-rigged  pin 
nace  of  some  sixteen  or  eighteen  tons,  a  couple  of  long,  sharp, 
clinker-built  rowing  boats,  like  those  used  by  smugglers  in  the 
British  channel,  two  or  three  yawls  and  fishing-boats,  of  vari 
ous  kinds  and  dimensions,  and  a  whole  fleet  of  birch-canoes 
lying  balanced  like  water-birds  on  the  clear  surface.  A  little 
shed  on  the  margin  of  the  stream  was  filled  with  oars,  masts, 
sails,  and  paddles,  and  all  the  means  and  appliances  for  boat 
ing,  fishing,  or  fowling,  as  very  much  of  the  subsistence  both 
of  the  fathers  and  their  Iroquois  neophytes  depended  on  one  or 
other  of  these  pursuits,  for  such  they  are  even  to  this  day, 
rather  than  sports  in  that  wild  region. 

On  the  farther  bank  of  the  river  the  cleared  land  was  of 
about  the  same  extent,  and  with  the  same  general  character 


A    HURON    VILLAGE.  339 

of  civilization,  except  that  there  were  neither  gardens  nor 
orchards,  while  the  maize  fields  were  more  extensive,  and 
were  intermixed  with  considerable  tracts  planted  with  esculent 
roots,  and  many  of  the  coarser  European  vegetables.  Almost 
exactly  opposite  to  the  fort,  on  a  grassy  table-land,  below  the 
cultivated  grounds,  and  surrounded  on  two  sides  by  the  skirts 
of  the  forest,  stood  a  small  Huron  village  of  about  sixty  lodges, 
built  of  stronger  materials,  and  with  a  greater  view  to  perma 
nence  than  is  usual  with  the  dwellings  of  the  aborigines.  A 
council-lodge  stood  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the  area,  around 
which  the  wigwams  were  irregularly  scattered,  but  what 
seemed  a  strange  and  most  unlooked-for  appendage  to  a  coun 
cil-lodge  of  the  rude  Iroquois,  a  large  crucifix  of  wood  had 
been  reared  in  front  of  it,  supporting  an  effigy  of  the  dying 
Redeemer,  rudely  but  boldly  sculptured  in  the  soft  wood,  dem 
onstrating  that  the  labors  of  the  good  fathers  had  not  been  vain, 
and  that  the  village  was  inhabited  by  neophytes  who  had  in 
clined  a  willing  ear  to  the  admonitions  of  the  order,  and  had 
turned  their  hearts  to  that  meek  and  gentle  faith,  through  which 
alone  cometh  salvation. 

Dogs,  children  of  all  ages,  canoes,  racks  for  drying  fish,  and 
rude  implements  of  husbandry  and  agriculture,  lay  scattered 
about:  and  among  these,  interspersed  with  European  tools  and 
instruments  of  steel  and  iron,  lay  many  hammers,  chisels, 
hatchets,  and  the  like,  shaped  by  untutored  Indian  skill  out  of 
the  pure  native  copper  of  the  lakes,  which  the  aborigines  had 
long  worked  and  known  how  to  temper  to  a  degree  of  hard 
ness  unattainable  by  our  utmost  science,  although,  on  the  intro 
duction  of  iron  tools  and  weapons  by  the  French,  they  speedily 
abandoned  their  use,  deserted  and  blocked  up  the  mouths  of 
their  mines,  and  concealed  them  with  such  care  from  the 
whites,  that,  although  their  existence  was  well  ascertained, 
their  whereabout  was  never  known  to  the  Jesuits,  and  that  it 


340  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

is  in  comparatively  latter  days  only  that  they  have  been  re 
discovered. 

Such  was  the  scene  that  had  filled  so  many  times  before  the 
eyes  of  Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng,  that  it  failed  now  to 
awaken  any  expression  in  her  handsome  features,  and  she  ex 
hibited  only  an  anxiety  to  reach  the  dock  of  the  mission,  before 
the  bell  had  ceased  to  ring,  which  it  might  now  be  speedily 
expected  to  do,  since  it  had  already  changed  its  sweet  and  sol 
emn  cadence  for  the  quick  tremulous  chime  which  precedes 
the  cessation  of  the  call  to  worship. 

At  the  jetty,  speaking  gravely  to  some  of  the  lay  brethren, 
and  to  two  or  three  scattered  Indians,  who  as  they  left  him 
hurried  up  toward  the  Mission,  stood  a  tall  young  man,  exhib 
iting  nothing  peculiarly  clerical  in  his  appearance,  for  he  was 
not  tonsured,  but  wore  his  long  black  hair  falling  in  straight 
uucurled  masses  down  either  cheek ;  nor  in  his  garb,  except 
that  he  wore  a  large,  showy  crucifix  about  his  neck,  for  ho 
was  clad  in  leather  hunting-shirt,  pantaloons,  and  moccasins, 
with  a  wood-knife  in  his  belt,  and  a  strong  staff  with  an  iron 
pike  at  the  extremity  in  his  hand.  He  was  finely  proportioned 
and  of  a  graceful  figure,  but  so  slender  and  even  thin,  that,  he 
gave  you  the  idea  of  having  been  emaciated  by  sickness  or 
privation,  and  his  singularly  handsome  intellectual  features,; 
with  their  dark  olive  hue,  were  so  unnaturally  sharpened,  that 
they  naturally  conveyed  the  same  impression. 

A  bright  light  flashed  in  the  soft  hazel  eyes  of  the  Reed- 
shaken-by-the  wind,  and  a  strange,  fitful  color  flushed  her  dark 
cheeks  as  her  eye  fell  on  the  commanding  figure  of  the  ascetic  ; 
and  as  her  canoe  came  to  land,  she  flung  the  deer-skin  painter 
over  one  of  the  posts  of  the  little  dock,  and  hurried  up  toward 
him,  with  an  air  singularly  blended  of  consciousness  with 
timidity. 


THE    FATHER    BORROMEE.  341 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE    PROPOSAL. 

RAOUL  DE  ROHAN,  better  known  by  his  ecclesiastical  title 
of  Father  Borromee,  who  was  now  attached  to  a  mission  of 
French  origin,  and  supported  entirely  by  the  French  govern 
ment,  which  had  seriously  turned  its  attention  to  the  coloniza 
tion  of  the  Canadas,  and  the  northeastern  provinces  of  the 
North  American  continent,  was  by  birth  a  Frenchman,  of  the 
very  highest  birth  and  station.  His  family  had  given  more 
than  one  marshal  to  their  country,  and  the  exploits  of  the  name 
of  De  Rohan  had  been  recounted  in  every  clime  whose  air 
had  fluttered  the  glorious  oriflamme,  whose  sun  had  shone 
upon  the  glittering  panoply  and  brandished  arms  of  the  patri 
cian  leaders  and  daring  hosts  of  France.  Cast  early  upon  the 
world,  a  noble  and  rich  orphan,  Raoul  had  followed  the  stand 
ard  of  his  country  for  the  aggrandizement  of  her  ambitious 
monarch,  had  won  great  fame  in  the  field  while  yet  a  mere 
boy,  and  had  been  permitted  to  buckle  on  the  golden  spurs  of 
knighthood,  long  ere  he  had  attained  to  the  years  of  manhood. 
Nay !  it  was  openly  asserted  that  he  might  have  aspired  to  the 
baton  of  a  marechal  of  France  ;  but  suddenly,  none  knew 
wherefore,  he  relinquished  the  dazzling  career  on  which  he 
had  entered  with  such  early  promise,  betook  himself  to  Rome, 
where  he  joined  the  company  of  Jesus,  and,  before  many  years 
had  passed,  enjoyed  as  high  a  reputation  for  energy,  zeal, 
learning,  piety,  eloquence,  and  absolute  devotion  to  the  interests 
of  his  order,  as  he  had  formerly  achieved  for  conduct  and 
valor  in  the  tented  field. 


342          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENO. 

% 

By  the  director-general  of  the  order,  he  had  been  several 
times  intrusted  with  missions  of  the  highest  importance  in  al 
most  every  quarter  of  the  world,  from  Pekin  to  Paraguay,  and 
from  the  shores  of  the  Red  sea  and  the  summits  of  Lebanon 
and  Sinai,  to  the  turbid  flood  of  the  Mississippi  and  the  cold 
crags  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Nor  had  he  once  failed  in 
eliciting  the  highest  praise  from  his  superiors,  until  he  reached 
that  pitch  of  eminence,  most  rare  for  his  years,  that  whenever 
duties  were  canvassed  of  more  than  ordinary  peril,  and  requi 
ring  more  than  ordinary  powers  and  ability  for  their  accom 
plishment,  the  father  Borromee  was  ever  the  first  named,  both 
as  the  fittest  person  to  be  employed  and  the  most  eager  and 
earnest  aspirant  of  the  order. 

Melancholy,  grave,  and  taciturn,  nay,  almost  cold  in  his 
natural  deportment,  few  suspected,  even  those  who  knew  him 
best,  that  the  calm,  tranquil  exterior,  the  impassive  lineaments, 
the  voice  imperturbable  in  its  clear,  slow,  modulated  flow, 
were  but  the  draperies  and  disguise  of  a  nature  fiery  and  fierce 
as  the  noonday  sun  of  the  equator  ;  and  that  under  the  cover 
of  that  iron  self-control  which  seemed  immovable  as  the  earth- 
fast  hills,  there  raged  a  very  furnace  of  burning  and  blighting 
passions,  a  temper  prone  as  the  flint  to  give  sparks  of  fire  in 
return  for  stroke  of  steel,  as  prone  as  the  snow-wreath  to  melt 
into  pitiful  tears  at  touch  of  human  sympathy  or  sorrow. 
Strange  stories  had  been  rife  when  he  resigned  the  sword  and 
spurs  for  the  crucifix  and  cowl,  of  frustrated  affections,  and  the 
course  of  true  love  as  usual  run  astray,  of  crimes  and  agonies, 
raptures  and  madness,  but  like  vain  rumors  they  died  away, 
and  none  who  looked  now  on  the  taciturn,  emaciated  priest, 
wasted  with  penance  and  maceration,  watching  and  fasting, 
and  every  form  of  self-denial,  could  have  deemed  it  possible 
that  the  very  spirit  of  the  gladiator,  the  very  passions  of  the 
restless,  reckless,  roving  soldier  dwelt  beneath  the  hair-shirt, 


THE    REED-SHAKEN-BY-THE-WIND.  343 

which  he  wore  ever  beneath  the  buckskin  which  was  more 
fitting  wear  for  the  western  wilderness  than  the  surge  cassock 
of  the  monk. 

Yet,  in  despite  his  ascetism,  the  father  Borromee  was  a 
favorite  among  the  brothers  of  his  order,  the  chosen  counsellor 
of  his  superior,  and  beloved  by  the  Indians  of  the  Mission  with 
a  love  approaching  almost  to  idolatry,  which  he  was  wont  at 
times  to  censure  in  the  frank  and  artless  neophytes,  as  being 
greater  in  degree  and  more  intense  in  its  character  than  it  be 
came  mortal  creatures  to  bestow  one  upon  the  other.  The 
secret  of  this  lay  perhaps  in  the  fact  that  stern  and  rigid  toward 
himself,  he  was  indulgent,  liberal,  and  unexacting  toward 
others  ;  that  grave  and  austere  to  himself  when  alone,  he  was 
genial,  bland,  and  warm-hearted,  toward  others,  and  that  his 
tact  and  tenderness  in  managing  those  full-grown  children  of 
nature's  own  framing,  the  red  Indians,  he  was  celebrated  above 
the  celebrated,  and  was  everywhere,  so  far  as  his  eloquence 
or  his  report  had  penetrated,  the  counsellor,  the  friend,  and  al 
most  the  father  of  those  who  loved  to  call  themselves  his  red 
children. 

It  was  toward  this  stately  and  dignified  personage  that  the 
"  Reed-shaken-by-the-wind"  turned  her  footsteps,  carrying  in 
her  hand  the  string  of  rock-bass  which  she  had  taken,  and 
with  a  very  singular  expression  in  her  large  liquid  eye,  half- 
bashful  and  shy,  yet  half-alluring  and  attractive,  and  with  some 
thing  in  her  whole  gait,  air,  and  demeanor,  that  implied  an 
eager  desire  to  attract  notice,  mingled  with  a  timidity  more 
than  mere  girlish  bashfulness,  which  seemed  as  if  it  must  have 
its  own  peculiar  meaning.  Her  eyes  were  downcast  as  she 
approached  the  priest,  yet  she  shot  long,  furtive  glances  from 
beneath  the  deep-fringed  lashes  which  were  pencilled  in  strong 
relief  against  the  glowing  hues  of  her  rich  cheeks,  for  she 
blushed  deeply,  almost  painfully  as  she  became  conscious  that 


344  AHSAHGUNITSHK    XUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

his  clear,  cold,  penetrating  eye  was  fixed  on  her  as  she  ap 
proached  with  intense  scrutiny.  As  she  drew  nearer  to  him 
yet,  she  faltered  more  and  more,  and  with  her  head  bowed 
meekly,  and  her  left  arm  pressed  across  her  gently  budding 
bosom,  she  knelt  silently  at  his  feet,  laying  her  little  offering 
of  fish  before  him,  and  seeming  to  implore  his  blessing,  al 
though  her  lips  could  syllable  no  sounds  to  ask  it. 

The  cold  face  of  the  impassive  churchman  relaxed  not  in 
the  least,  perhaps,  if  anything,  it  waxed  graver,  harder,  and 
more  solemn,  and  that  deep,  keen,  gray  eye  pierced  deeper, 
deeper,  as  if  it  would  penetrate  her  soul,  that  she  fancied  she 
could  almost  feel  its  penetration  like  that  of  a  two-edged  in 
strument  of  steel. 

At  length,  however,  as  if  with  something  of  an  effort,  he 
signed  the  cross  over  her  brow,  and  then  extending  both  hands 
with  the  palms  deflected  over  her  head — "  Bless  thee,"  he 
said,  in  tones  full  of  calm,  devotional  affection,  "  bless  thee,  my 
daughter,  and  may  He  bless  thee,  whose  blessing  only  avails 
anything,  and  keep  thee  to  eternal  life." 

She  rose  slowly  and  gazed  wistfully  and  gratefully  into  his 
eyes,  and  then  turned  as  if  to  go  toward  the  chapel,  whither 
many  of  the  Indians,  as  well  as  all  the  brothers  and  lay  brothers 
of  the  company  were  flocking  in  from  the  fields,  when  his 
steady  and  harmonious  voice  arrested  her. 

"  Ahsahgunushk,  whither  goest  thou  ?" 

"  To  church,  father,"  she  replied,  speaking  in  singularly 
pure  French,  with  an  accent  hardly  at  all  foreign  or  provincial. 
"  I  am  almost  too  late,  but  I  knew  not  the  hour  until  I  heard 
the  bell,  where  I  was  fishing." 

"  Art  thou  prepared,  Roseau  tremllante  ?"  he  asked  again, 
addressing  her  now  by  the  French  translation  of  her  Indian 
name  ;  "  art  thou  prepared  to  worship  the  most  high  God,  in 
penitence  of  heart  and  sincerity  of  spirit  ?" 


NEGLECT    OF    THE    CONFESSIONAL.  345 

"  Father !"  the  girl  replied,  with  a  tremulous  hesitation  that 
was  singularly  touching,  but  she  said  no  more. 

"  Art  thou  prepared,  I  say,  daughter,  to  bow  the  knee  of  thy 
heart  before  the  Lord  of  all  mercies,  and  ask  of  him  that  for 
giveness  which  he  alone  can  grant,  and  then  only  to  the  true 
penitent  ?" 

"  Father,  I  am  prepared — I  know  my  own  unworthiness." 

"  When  didst  thou  confess  thyself,  my  daughter  ?" 

"  On  Easter-Sunday,  father,"  she  replied,  again  hesitating, 
and  casting  down  her  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  her  cheeks  now 
steeped  with  burning  blushes. 

"Not  since  so  long  —  and  wherefore,  Ahsahgunushk? 
Thou  wert  wont  to  be  truly  penitent,  daughter,  even  for  small 
offendings.  Wherefore  not  since  so  long?" 

"  Father,"  returned  the  Reed-shaken-by-the-wind.  "  Father, 
it  is  that — that — I  dare  not." 

"  Dare  not ! — you  dare  not  confess  ?"  he  replied  severely,  in 
his  slowest  and  most  solemn  tones.  "  You  dare  not  to  confess, 
Ahsahgunushk?  —  and  how  then  shall  you  dare  to  die?  and 
how  know  that  this  very  day,  nay,  that  this  very  hour,  He  shall 
not  require  your  soul  of  you,  to  whom  you  dare  not  confess  ? 
Of  what  so  great  sins  are  you  guilty,  that  you  should  not  re 
pent  them,  and  confess,  and  be  forgiven  ?" 

"  Oh,  very,  very  guilty  !  Pardon  me,  father,  pardon  me  !" 
and  she  again  knelt  at  his  feet,  and  strove  to  clasp  his  knees, 
burying  her  head  in  her  lap  as  she  did  so,  and  bursting  into  a 
flood  of  tears  of  humiliation,  and  an  agony  of  self-abasement. 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  pardon  —  only  to  pronounce  the  pardon 
of  Him  who  is  in  all,  and  through  all,  and  over  all,  unto  those 
who  repent  them  truly  of  their  sins  past,  and  intend  steadfastly 
to  lead  a  new  life."  And  he  drew  back  from  her  half-extended 
arms  as  he  spoke,  adding  — "  Touch  me  not,  daughter,  for  I 
fear  that  thou  art  corrupt  of  heart,  and  that  thy  touch  is  of  pol- 

15* 


346          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENO. 

lution.  But,  hear  me,  go  thy  way  into  the  church,  and  pray 
for  strength  and  succor  from  above.  To-morrow  morning, 
which  is  Sunday,  I  shall  be  in  the  chair,  and  see  thou  come  to 
confessional,  so  shall  I  set  thee  penance  for  thine  ill-doings, 
if  that  they  deserve  it,  and  grant  thee  absolution  of  thy  sins." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  father  !  I  can  not,"  she  exclaimed  amid  an 
agony  of  passionate  weeping.  Oh,  no,  no,  no  —  I  can  not — I 
can  not." 

"Canst  not  confess,  Ahsahgunushk  —  and  wherefore  — 
wherefore — what  crime  couldst  thou  have  done  so  terrible 
that  thou  must  needs  despair  ?*' 

"Not  that,"  she  faltered  —  "not  that,  father.  I  could  —  I 
could  perhops  confess  but  —  not  —  not  —  in  short,  not  to  thee  !" 

"  Not  to  me  !"  exclaimed  the  father  Borromee  starting  back 
ward,  "  and  wherefore,  I  prithee,  not  to  me  ?  Why  it  is  to  me 
that  you  came  for  admission  to  the  fold  of  Christ  the  Savior ! 
It  is  I,  who  prepared  you  for  your  first  sacrament,  I  who  have 
absolved  you  ever  of  your  failings  and  errors,  for  hitherto  your 
sins  have  been  but  venial  — and,  even  now,  I  trust  that  I  shall 
not  lack  the  power  to  console  you,  and  absolve  you  of  this 
your  evil  doing,  be  it  what  it  may.  Only  come,  come,  I  com 
mand  you,  as  you  would  save  your  soul  alive,  come  to  the  con 
fessional  to-morrow  morning." 

And  with  the  words  he  turned  on  his  heel,  without  uttering 
another  word,  and  strode  away  silent  and  austere,  to  robe  him 
self  in  clerical  vestments,  put  on  above  his  forest  costume,  in 
order  to  minister  at  the  altar,  the  only  altar  to  the  true  God  in 
thousand  miles  of  breadth  of  wilderness,  and  lake  and  river. 

The  maiden  followed  him  silently,  with  her  large  dark  eyes 
swimming  in  tears,  yet  fixed  upon  his  commanding  form,  like 
pure  stars  shining  through  the  mists  which  may  dim,  but  can 
not  obliterate  their  spiritual  lustre.  Passing  beneath  the  arch 
into  the  corridor  of  the  mission-house,  she  turned  short  to  the 


THE    RUSTIC    CHAPEL.  347 

right,  and  stood  within  the  precincts  of  the  chapel,  a  large  rus 
tic  building  erected,  it  is  true,  from  the  perishable  materials  of 
the  forest  only,  but  in  the  pointed  Gothic  style,  the  groined 
arches  being  composed  of  the  gnarled  and  fantastic  knees  of 
gigantic  oaks,  and  the  columns  of  knotted  shafts  of  heaven- 
aspiring  pines,  all  wearing  the  natural  colors  of  the  timber, 
unpainted  and  aspiring  to  no  decoration  beyond  the  ruggedly- 
symmetrical  forms  in  which  they  had  been  arranged  by  the 
master-hand  of  one  who  had  not  studied  architecture  for  mean 
end  or  little  purpose.  At  the  entrance  stood  a  vessel  contain 
ing  holy  water,  and  at  the  farther  end  was  an  altar,  with  an 
ascent  of  six  broad  steps,  and  a  wooden  railing,  above  which 
was  seen  the  scanty  sacramental  plate,  duly  arranged  on  the 
board,  and  several  candelabra  furnished  with  candles  manufac 
tured  from  the  wax  of  the  wild-bee  by  the  hands  of  the  fathers 
themselves  within  the  walls  of  the  mission.  Not  far  from  the 
altar  stood  a  pulpit  of  form  so  graceful,  that  it  atoned  for  the 
simplicity  and  rudeness  of  the  material,  and  above  the  sacra 
mental-table  towered  on  a  huge  cross  of  ebony,  the  semblance 
of  Him  crucified,  exquisitely  carved  in  ivory ;  this  sacred 
effigy,  together  with  the  sacramental-plate,  being  the  only 
articles  of  foreign  character  discoverable  in  that  foreign  sanc 
tuary. 

Within  its  humble  walls  were  associated  all  the  members 
of  the  order,  and  most  of  the  Christian  Indians,  for  it  was  the 
usage  of  the  fathers  to  commence  every  day  with  a  brief  ser 
vice,  at  which  they  required  the  presence  of  all  the  neophytes, 
unless  for  especial  reasons  shown  wherefore  they  should  ab 
sent  themselves,  and  morning  after  morning,  whether  the  burn 
ing  sun  of  July  was  scourging  the  tree-tops  with  his  intolerable 
lustre,  or  the  deep  snows  of  December  lay  spotless  over  miles 
and  miles  of  untrodden  wilderness,  the  sounds  of  their  matin- 
bell,  hailing  the  advent  of  the  happy  dawn,  and  summoning  the 


348  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

artless  worshippers  to  greet  the  Giver  of  all  good  with  their 
unpretending  orisons.  Nearly  a  hundred  Indians  were  col 
lected,  mostly  old  men,  or  girls  and  women,  for  the  chiefs  were 
principally  absent  fishing  for  the  great  salmon  of  the  lakes,  and 
the  delicious  white-fish,  which  were  beginning  to  run  in  to 
ward  the  shores  and  shallows  about  the  river  mouths,  and  on 
which  the  community  in  a  great  degree  depended  for  their 
winter  subsistence.  And  orderly  they  sat  and  attentive,  with 
their  dark  serious  eyes  fixed  wistfully  on  the  face  of  the  min 
istering  priests,  accurately  performing  all  the  signs  and  cere 
monials  of  the  ritual,  crossing  themselves  and  making  the  ac 
customed  genuflexions,  and  even  uplifting  their  sweet  and 
silvery  voices  to  join  the  chanted  hymns  and  litanies,  but  of 
course  unable  to  comprehend  a  word  of  the  services,  which 
were  couched  in  an  unknown  tongue.  The  brief  services 
were,  however,  soon  completed,  and  then  the  Father  Borromee, 
ascending  the  pulpit,  preached  a  short,  lucid,  and  eloquent, 
because  fervent,  direct,  and  clearly  comprehensible  sermon,  in 
the  French  language,  to  as  attentive  an  audience  as  ever  lis 
tened  to  the  words  of  holy  writ  from  the  mouth  of  mortal  man. 
He.  had  taken  as  his  text  the  words  — "  Come  unto  me  all  ye 
that  are  heavy  laden,"  and  his  discourse  was  riot  an  apology 
for  the  use  of  the  confessional,  but  a  direct  and  forcible  argu 
ment  in  behalf  of  its  necessity,  ending  with  a  striking  and 
almost  sublime  peroration,  inviting,  commanding,  imploring  all 
those  who  would  not  slight  and  impiously  reject  the  gift  ines 
timable  gift  of  the  dying  Redeemer,  even  the  gift  of  his  own 
divine  life,  draw  near  and  confess,  meekly  kneeling  upon  their 
knees,  the  sins  of  which,  being  human,  they  must  necessarily 
have  committed,  and  to  receive  that  absolution  and  forgiveness 
which  should  fit  them  for  eternal  life. 

Many  an  eye  of  those  who  listened  to  his  eager  and  soli 
citous  appeal,  for  he  appeared  this  morning  singularly  and  as 


THE    SERMON.  349 

it  were  personally  earnest  in  enforcing  his  doctrines,  was  wet 
with  tears  of  genuine  and  sincere  penitence  for  slight  and 
venial  offences,  and  many  a  heart  was  moved  to  an  earnest 
renunciation  of  some  familiar  and  favorite  sin,  for  his  words 
were  of  that  order  that  pierce  the  sick  heart  through  the  ear, 
and  speak  with  abiding  force  to  all  those  who  listen  in  humil 
ity,  eager  to  be  convinced,  through  faith,  unto  salvation.  But 
there  was  one  soul  through  the  very  depths  of  which  every 
word,  every  accent  of  that  deep  voice  thrilled  with  a  strange 
and  supernatural  power.;  there  was  one  eye,  which,  though 
downcast  and  humbly  fixed  on  vacancy,  discerned  every  change 
of  the  dark  expressive  features  of  the  speaker,  read  the  most 
secret  thoughts  of  his  heart,  felt  that  his  deep,  calm,  penetra 
ting  eye  was  fixed  upon  herself,  and  knew  that  however  he 
might  be  in  appearance  preaching  to  each  and  all  of  his  little 
congregation,  every  word  was,  indeed,  addressed  to  herself, 
every  exhortation  pointed  at  her,  every  thought  suggested  by 
the  conversation  which  they  had  held  together  but  a  little  while 
before — that  was  the  girl  Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng, 
or  the  Reed-shaken-by-the-wind  ;  and,  indeed,  like  a  very  reed 
she  was  shaken  and  distracted  by  the  contending  winds  of 
passion  and  devotion,  of  human  wishes  and  holier  aspirations. 
"  And  can  it  be,"  she  thought  within  herself,  "  can  it  be  that 
he  believes  me  so  sinful,  or  am  I,  indeed,  sinful,  and  is  this 
hopeless  love,  this  settled,  this  devoted,  this  unselfish,  fixed 
affection,  which  never  maybe  gratified;  is  this  —  is  this,  in 
deed,  a  sin.  Oh !  that  he  knew,  oh  !  that  he  knew,  once  for 
all,  that  which  is  in  this  poor,  faint  heart  of  mine.  For  he  is 
good,  and  he  would  pity — he  is  wise,  and  he  could  guide  ; 
and  yet,  and  yet,  how  can  I  ever  tell  him — he  can  be  so  stern 
to  the  obstinately  sinful ;  and  oh  !  but  this  sad  love  of  mine  is 
very,  very  obstinate.  How  shall  I  ever  tell  him.  "  O  mon 
bon  Dicv"  she  cried  aloud,  as  her  thoughts,  her  fears,  her  im- 


350  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

agination,  overpowered  her  ;  "  O  mon  Ion  Dieu,  aidez  moi,  car 
je  suis  faiblc,  car  je  suis  faible,  car  je  tombe.  O  mon  bon 
Dieu,  aidez  moi,  sauvez  moi,  pardonnez  moi,  miserable  que  je 


And  the  deep  voice  of  the  preacher  took  up  her  words  as 
she  uttered  them,  seemingly  unconscious  that  he  had  been  in 
terrupted,  thus  bringing  it  for  the  first  time  to  her  mind  that 
she  had  cried  out  in  the  bitterness  of  her  soul  before  the  whole 
congregation.  "  O  bon  Dieu  !  aidez  nous,  sauvez  nous,  par 
donnez  nous,  miserables  que  nous  sommes,  pecheurs,  et  indignes, 
pardonnez  nous;  au  nom  du  fils  bien  cheri,  au  nom  du  Saint- 
Esprit,  pardonnez,  pardonnez,  et  sauvez  —  Amen  !  Amen  /" 

The  words  sunk  deep  into  the  wounded  spirit  of  the  girl, 
and  she  believed  for  a  moment  that  he  penetrated  her  secret, 
that  he  had  fathomed  the  abysses  of  her  obstinate  and  rebel 
lious  heart,  that  he  understood,  pitied,  prayed  for  her.  Yet 
never  was  she  under  the  influence  of  a  more  unfounded  fancy. 
She  had  been  rather  a  favorite  of  the  Jesuit  from  the  first,  her 
singular  innocence  and  artlessness,  the  confidence  with  which 
she  had  accepted  his  ministry,  her  simple  and  ingenuous  faith, 
and  her  remarkable  readiness  in  acquiring  the  tongues  of  Eu 
rope,  which  she  had  literally  caught  on  the  wing  as  they  fell 
from  his  fluent  lips,  had  all  attracted  his  attention  and  pleased 
his  imagination.  She  was  his  first  convert,  too,  of  that  wild 
tribe,  so  that  he  regarded  her  not  only  as  an  innocent  and  spot 
less  lamb  rescued  by  his  agency  from  the  fangs  of  the  devour 
ing  wolf,  but  felt  toward  her  something  of  the  feeling  which 
dwells  in  the  breast  of  a  young  mother  toward  a  first-born 
child. 

Her  rare  beauty,  too,  though  he  was  ignorant  of  its  effect, 
and  would  have  shrunk  back  in  horror  could  he  have  even 
dreamed  that  the  short-lived  comeliness  of  flesh  and  blood 
could  influence  his  imagination,  or  win  anything  of  his  favor, 


THE    BALD-EAGLE    OF    THE    IROQUOIS.  351 

had  probably  not  failed  of  its  wonted  attraction  ;  and  he  con 
fessed  even  to  himself  that  her  sweet,  low  voice  —  the  voices 
of  most  Indian  women,  while  young,  are  liquid  and  melodious, 
but  Ahsahgunushk's  was  so  even  to  the  wonder  of  the  tribe  — 
found  a  responsive  chord  in  his  memory,  or  his  fancy — he 
would  not  admit  even  to  himself  that  he  had  a  heart — and 
transported  him  to  days  long  past,  and  scenes  long  unvisited, 
but  never  to  be  forgotten. 

If,  however,  the  maiden  erred  in  supposing  that  the  causes 
of  her  agitation,  her  absenting  herself  from  the  confessional, 
her  tears  and  self-reproaches  were  understood  or  suspected 
by  the  father,  she  deceived  herself  yet  more  blindly  when  she 
supposed  that  they  had  escaped  the  eyes  of  another.  And 
yet,  when  she  arose  from  her  knees  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
service,  and  found  the  keen,  hawk-like  glance  of  the  Bald- 
Eagle  riveted  with  a  meaning  expression,  half  fierce,  half  fond, 
yet  either  way,  most  repulsive,  upon  her  shrinking  form  and 
conscious  features,  she  shuddered  with  a  sort  of  half-prophetic 
terror,  arid  endeavored  so  to  mingle  herself  with  the  other  girls, 
as  to  escape  his  notice. 

If  such,  however,  was  her  intention,  it  was  frustrated,  for  as 
she  passed  out  of  the  gateway  into  the  garden,  a  hand  was 
laid  firmly,  though  not  forcibly,  upon  her  shoulder,  and  as  she 
started,  and  instinctively  endeavored  to  free  herself  from  the 
grasp,  the  deep  voice  of  the  Indian,  suppressed  into  its  gentlest 
tones,  fell  upon  her  ear  ungraciously,  and  conveying  nothing 
either  of  confidence  or  of  gratification  on  its  tones. 

"  Be  not  frightened,  Ahsahgunushk,"  it  said,  "  it  is  only  I  — 
the  Bald-Eagle  of  the  Iroquois.  I,  who  am  your  friend,  and 
the  son  of  your  father" — for,  when  captured,  almost  in  her  in 
fancy,  from  her  own  tribe,  the  Ojibwas,  whom  the  whites  cal 
led  Chippewas,  she  had  been  adopted  by  the  great  war-chief 
of  the  Hurons,  the  War-Eagle,  and  had  been  brought  up  in 


352  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

his  wigwam  as  if  she  had  been  his  daughter.  "  Come  this 
way,"  he  continued,  waving  his  hand  through  the  garden  to 
ward  the  ravine  and  the  woodland  beyond  it.  "  Come  this 
way,  the  Bald-Eagle  would  hold  council  with  the  Reed-shaken- 
by-the-wind." 

The  girl  trembled  with  ill-repressed  aversion,  and  could 
scarcely  conceal  her  reluctance,  although  the  Bald-Eagle  was 
both  a  well-formed  and  handsome  Indian,  whom  any  girl  of 
his  tribe  would  have  gladly  enlisted  among  her  admirers,  and, 
besides  being  the  oldest  son  of  the  great  chief  and  the  succes 
sor  to  all  his  hereditary  honors,  was  celebrated  as  the  best 
hunter  and  the  bravest  warrior  of  the  Iroquois  of  the  lakes.  He 
did  not,  therefore,  suspect  for  a  moment  that  she  could  have 
any  repugnance  to  himself  unless  as  connected  with  a  prefer 
ence  for  another,  and  who  that  other  was,  he  doubted  if  he  did 
not  actually  suspect.  He  was  a  man,  however,  of  violent  pas 
sions  and  strong  impulses,  of  an  energetic  will,  and  of  a  reso 
lute,  unbending,  and  self-confident  spirit.  No  one,  therefore, 
could  be  less  likely  to  yield  his  pretensions  to  an  imaginary 
rival,  or  to  shrink  from  the  fanciful  fear  of  meeting  a  repulse, 
from  making  his  wishes  known  to  one  over  whom  in  the  vain 
audacity  of  his  soul  he  conceived  that  his  slightest  wish  ought 
to  have  the  influence  of  a  law. 

The  girl,  however,  who  was  only  annoyed,  and  not  in  the 
least  degree  intimidated  or  overawed  by  one  who  could  have 
no  influence  over  such  a  mind  as  hers,  except  that  which  may 
be  produced  by  the  reality  of  physical  superiority  and  the  rep 
utation  of  manly  courage  over  the  less  active  spirit  of  the  wo 
man,  replied  simply,  "  No,  not  that  way.  Let  us  take  the 
canoe,  we  will  speak  in  it,  on  the  river,  where  no  one  shall 
hear  wha{  the  Bald-Eagle  wishes  with  his  sister." 

"  Not  sister  !"  replied  the  chief,  abruptly.  "  Do  n't  say  that. 
Not  sister,  I  tell  you.  Ojibwa  girl  not  sister  to  the  Bald- 


THE    PROPOSAL.  353 

Eagle  of  the  Iroquois.  Sister — no,  never.  Wife  sometime, 
maybe." 

In  the  meantime,  the  girl  had  stepped  down  the  bank,  and 
taken  her  place  in  the  stern  of  the  canoe,  paddle  in  hand,  and, 
although  she  distinctly  heard  the  last  words  which  the  youth 
ful  warrior  uttered,  she  affected  not  to  perceive  or  comprehend 
his  meaning,  but  motioned  him  to  take  his  seat  facing  her, 
near  the  head  of  the  slight  bark,  and  sent  it  out  into  the  mid 
dle  of  the  stream  by  a  dexterous  sweep  of  her  paddle. 

Then  turning  her  face  full  upon  him,  and  fixing  him  with 
her  full,  bright,  calm  eyes,  she  asked  him,  in  a  steady  voice, 
in  the  Iroquois  tongue, 

"  What  does  the  Bald-Eagle  wish  ?" 

"  The  Bald-Eagle,"  replied  the  young  man,  "  is  alone.  His 
lodge  is  empty.  The  Bald-Eagle  has  plenty  of  venison,  plenty 
fish,  plenty  duck — the  Bald-Eagle  is  a  great  hunter,  his  arrow 
never  misses,  his  spear  is  death  to  the  salmon — he  has  plenty 
of  skins,  plenty  cloth  of  the  pale  faces,  plenty  of  wampum  — 
but  he  has  got  no  squaw.  His  lodge  is  very  empty,  his  heart 
is  very  lonely — the  Bald-Eagle  wishes  a  wife." 

"  Why  not  take  wife,  then  ?"  said  the  girl,  blushing  at  his 
words,  yet  still  affecting  to  misunderstand  him.  "  Plenty 
young  Huron  girl  wish  husband,  plenty  good  girl,  plenty  hand 
some.  Why  not  take  Iroquois  girl  for  wife,  Bald-Eagle  ?" 

u  Iroquois  girl  not  good,  not  handsome,"  answered  the  war 
rior.  "  Ojibwa  girl  better.  Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng, 
she  wife  good  for  Bald-Eagle." 

"  Not  wife,  only  sister,"  she  replied,  quietly.  "  Grow  up 
with  young  chief  in  same  lodge,  they  papoose  together,  chil 
dren  together.  Brother,  sister — not  good  marry  sister.  No, 
no,  not  wife,  Bald-Eagle,  only  sister." 

Fire  flashed  from  the  dark  eyes  of  the  Iroquois  chief,  as  he 
heard  her  reply,  and  he  clinched  his  hands  vehemently ;  for 


354  AHSAHGUNTJSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

he  fully  understood  her  meaning,  and  almost  as  fully  compre 
hended  the  inutility  of  contending  against  her  gentle  but  as 
sured  will,  or  endeav.oring  to  alter  her  purpose.  But  knowing 
that  violence  and  rage  would  be  only  worse  than  useless,  he 
made  a  great  effort,  and  subduing  his  fierce  temper,  replied  in 
a  voice  as  quiet  as  that  in  which  he  had  commenced  his  woo 
ing. 

"  Not  true,"  he  said.  "  One  father,  one  mother  make  broth 
er,  make  .sister.  My  father,  War-Eagle,  of  the  Iroquois,  my 
mother,  '  Mist-of-the-Lakes.'  Ahsahgunushk's  father,  Ching- 
wauk,  of  the  Ojibwas,  he  call  White-Pine,  great  chief,  too  ; 
mother,  Ojibwa  squaw,  maybe.  Not  brother,  not  sister  at  all. 
I  say  not  sister.  The  Bald-Eagle's  lodge  waits  for  the  Reed- 
shaken-by-the-wind.  The  Bald-Eagle  thinks  of  her  when  he 
is  alone  in  the  woods  on  the  deer-stand ;  he  sees  her  face  in 
the  clear  waters,  when  he  should  look  for  the  hamaycush,  the 
great  salmon  of  the  lakes  ;  he  hears  her  voice  on  the  winds 
of  heaven,  when  he  should  listen  '  Awunk'  of  the  geese  in  the 
clouds  ;  he  dreams  of  her  when  he  is  alone  in  his  wigwam  by 
night.  He  loves  Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng  more  than 
all  the  girls  of  the  Iroquois,  more  than  all  the  daughters  of  the 
pale  faces  down  at  the  Isle  Jesus.*  Ojibwa  girl  best  of  all, 
handsomest,  most  loved.  Ojibwa  girl  be  the  wife  of  the  Bald- 
Eagle." 

"  Bald-Eagle,"  answered  the  maiden,  calmly  and  kindly, 
"  I  have  heard  your  words,  and  marked  them.  Now  hear 
mine,  and  believe  them,  for  they  are  true." 

"Good,"  replied  the  chief.  "Will  hear  — will  believe  — 
only  say  '  yes  ;'  will  love,  and  take  to  wigwam." 

"  The  Bald-Eagle  is  a  great  warrior,  a  great  chief.  His 
arm  is  very  strong  in  the  chase,  very  strong  in  the  battle.  Ho 
can  bend  his  enemies  for  his  pride,  he  can  bend  the  wild  beasts 
*  Montreal. 


THE    REFUSAL.  355 

of  the  forest  for  his  sport,  he  can  bend  the  trees  of  the  wood 
for  his  pleasure,  but  he  can  not  bend  the  heart  of  a  young  girl, 
he  can  only  break  it.  Hark  you,  Bald-Eagle,  a  great  chief 
and  warrior  should  not  lead  an  unwilling  bride  to  his  wigwam. 
A  bride's  eyes  should  look  forward  always,  never  look  back 
ward.  A  bride's  eyes  should  be  blind  to  the  face  of  her  father, 
her  ears  should  be  deaf  to  the  calling  of  her  mother.  She 
should  see  nothing,  hear  nothing,  think  of  nothing,  but  her 
husband.  Bald-Eagle,  the  eyes  of  Ahsahgunushk  look  back 
always,  look  forward  not  at  all.  She  sees  only  gray  hairs  — 
only  the  gray  hairs  of  Chingwauk,  the  great  chief  of  the  Ojib- 
was.  She  hears  only  a  thin  voice,  only  a  thin,  old,  sorrowful 
voice  ;  it  is  the  voice  of  her  mother  calling  the  Reed-shaken- 
by-the-wind  —  calling  to  her  to  return  to  the  hunting-ground 
of  the  Ojibwas.  Bald-Eagle,  her  eyes  are  so  full  of  the  past 
that  she  can  not  see  the  present,  can  not  see  the  future.  Her 
eyes  are  so  full  of  tears,"  and  in  truth  they  did  fill  and  over 
flow  as  she  uttered  the  words,  "  so  full  of  tears  that  she  can 
not  see  the  face  of  the  young  warrior — her  ears  are  stopped  up 
by  the  calling  of  her  mother  that  she  can  not  hear  the  voice 
of  the  young  brave.  His  form  may  be  comely  to  the  sight  of 
others,  but  it  is  not  comely  to  the  sight  of  Ahsahgunushk. 
His  voice  may  sound  pleasant  to  the  hearing  of  others,  but  it 
is  not  pleasant  to  the  ears  of  Ahsahgunushk.  She  can  not  be 
the  wife  of  Bald-Eagle.  I  have  spoken." 

The  young  man  glared  at  her  with  a  vacant  eye,  and  blank 
expression  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  had  not  clearly  comprehend 
ed  what  she  said.  But  a  minute  afterward  the  blood  came 
hotly  and  fiercely  to  his  cheek,  his  lip  curled  scornfully,  his 
eye  flashed  with  a  vengeful  arid  malignant  fire. 

"  It  is  a  lie  !"  he  said,  not  passionately  but  sullenly,  reso 
lutely  ;  and  as  he  spoke  his  features  again  became  impassive 
as  they  had  been  before  he  heard  her.  "  I  have  heard  a 


356          AHSAKGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSEXG. 

voice,"  he  continued,  "  but  it  was  a  lying  voice  —  a  voice  very 
bad,  very  forked,  even  as  the  tongue  of  the  rattlesnake  that 
lies  among  the  rocks  —  a  bad,  lying  voice.  Her  eyes  do  not 
look  backward,  they  look  forward.  Her  eyes  do  not  see  the 
face  of  Chingwouk,  nor  do  her  ears  hear  the  voice  of  her 
Ojibwa  mother.  If  her  heart  is  not  in  the  wigwam  of  the 
Bald-Eagle,  neither  is  it  in  the  far  away  hunting-grounds  of 
the  Ojibwa.  If  her  eyes  can  not  see  the  form,  neither  her 
ears  hear  the  voice  of  the  Bald-Eagle,  neither  are  they  blind 
ed  by  tears  for  the  Ojibwa,  nor  stopped  up  bv  the  callings 
of  her  mother.  If  the  Bald-Eagle  be  not  comely  to  her  sight, 
nor  his  voice  pleasant  to  her  ear,  it  is  because  the  face  of  an 
other  is  dearer,  and  the  voice  of  another  sounds  sweeter.  If 
she  will  not  enter  the  wigwam  of  the  Bald-Eagle,  it  is  because 
she  would  enter  the  wooden  house  of  the  pale-faces.  If 
she  will  not  be  the  wife  of  the  Bald-Eagle,  it  is  because  she 
would  be  the  wife  of  the  priest  —  the  young  priest  of  the  pale 
faces." 

As  he  uttered  the  last  words  in  a  deep,  hissing,  guttural 
voice,  his  face  livid  with  disappointed  pride  and  envious  spite, 
and  his  fine  form  literally  convulsed  with  fury,  she  met  his 
fierce  glare  with  a  calm,  equable,  and  unmoved  look,  nor  did 
she  even  blush  ;  for  the  very  intensity  of  her  emotions  acted 
to  prevent  the  outward  manifestation  of  them  ;  and  the  shock 
which  she  experienced  at  discovering  that  the  most  sacred 
secret  of  her  soul,  unconfessed  even  to  her  own  inmost  thoughts, 
her  silent,  hopeless,  passionless  devotion,  had  escaped  her  cus 
tody,  that  it  had  been  seen  by  profane  eyes,  and  spoken  of  by 
lips  unfriendly  and  unsanctified,  acted  upon  her  system  with 
such  violence  as  at  the  same  time  to  stun  her  nerves,  and  to 
strengthen  her  moral  courage,  and  she  made  answer  in  a  calm 
voice,  and  with  a  firm  and  unmoved  countenance. 

"  Forbear  !   Priests  have  no  wives.     You  speak  with  a  false 


THE    INSULT.  357 

tongue.  Why  are  you  so  bad  —  why  are  you  so  false  —  why 
are  you  so  cruel  ?  If  she  wished  it,  and  he  wished  it  like 
wise,  the  Reed-shaken-by-the-wind  could  not  be  the  wife  of 
the  young  priest  of  the  pale  faces." 

"  And  if  she  could,  she  should  not,"  retorted  the  vehement 
and  enraged  warrior.  "  She  shall  not !  She  shall  not !  while 
there  is  strength  in  the  arm,  and  blood  in  the  veins,  and  hatred 
in  the  heart  of  the  Bald-Eagle,  she  shall  not  be  the  wife  of  the 
lying  priest.  My  heart  is  very  hard,  my  will  is  very  strong. 
I  have  spoken." 

"  Go,  leave  me.  You  are  bad,"  cried  the  girl,  actually  shiv 
ering  through  her  whole  frame  with  an  irrepressible  motion  of 
disgust  and  abhorrence.  "  That  not  the  way  for  chief  to  speak 
to  girl.  Do  you  think  so  to  win  heart,  to  get  good  thoughts, 
to  buy  love  ?  I  tell  you  not  so,  not  so.  That  the  way  to  make 
young  girl  fear  —  no,  not  fear!  Ojibwa  girl  fears  nothing  —  but 
hate,  loathe,  despise  —  yes,  despise  —  make,  Ojibwa  girl  de 
spise  you — you,  great,  brave  chief  of  the  Iroquois  —  despise 
you,  Bald-Eagle." 

"  The  Ojibvvas  are  dogs,"  answered  the  Huron  warrior, 
savagely.  "  Their  women  are  she-dogs.  They  are  not  fit  to 
be  the  wives  of  warriors,  or  the  mothers  of  braves.  They  are 
good  only  to  hoe  corn,  and  carry  water  for  the  pale-faces.  To 
sit  upon  the  knees  of  pale  priests  by  the  fire,  and  to  kiss  their 
lips,  and  be  their  cast-aways.  The  Ojibwa  girls  are  she- 
dogs,  that  whine  for  the  dogs  of  the  pale-faces.  Wagh !  I 
spit  upon  them  —  they  are  unchaste  she-dogs." 

The  maiden's  face  flushed  crimson  at  the  insult,  and  her 
beautiful  soft  eyes  seemed  literally  to  flash  living  fire,  as  she 
turned  short  upon  the  taunter. 

"  You  coward  !"  she  exclaimed,  with  vehement  and  passion 
ate  indignation.  "  1  say  you  coward,  Bald-Eagle,  to  speak 
such  words  to  a  good  girl.  You  coward,  not  warrior  —  you 


358          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

liar,  not  chief.  You  Iroquois,  I  say,  not  Ojibwa.  Go,  go, 
Ojibwa  girl  hate  now  —  Iroquois  girl  shall  hate  soon,  when  I 
tell  them.  All  tribe  shall  hate  —  old  chief,  old  squaw,  young 
warriors,  young  girls,  all  shall  hate,  all  despise  you?" 

Goaded  almost  to  madness  by  her  vehement  and  indignant 
reproaches,  the  Bald-Eagle  rose  to  his  feet,  and  passing  with 
a  light  and  even  foot  down  the  canoe  to  the  place  where  she 
sat,  still  swelling  with  violent  emotion,  and  more  beautiful  for 
the  very  anger  that  warmed  her  into  such  impetuous  life,  and 
grasping  her  tightly  by  the  slender  wrist,  raised  his  right 
hand  and  smote  her  with  his  open  palm  once,  and  again  across 
the  cheek  so  forcibly  as  to  leave  the  score  of  his  fingers  im 
pressed  on  the  delicate  and  tender  flesh. 

A  loud  shout  from  the  bank  whereon  several  of  the  lay 
brothers  were  assembled,  and  yet  a  shriller  cry  of  indignation 
from  the  Huron  girls  on  the  opposite  shore,  evinced  the  indig 
nation  which  his  cowardly  act  had  excited  ;  but  ere  there  was 
time  to  mark  the  effect  on  his  mind,  she  cast  him  from  her 
with  such  energy  that  he  lost  his  balance,  and  as  the  fragile 
canoe  swayed  with  the  motion,  fell  headlong  overboard  in  the 
deep  water ;  while  with  a  bitter,  scornful  laugh,  she  dipped 
her  paddle  into  the  current,  and  steered  swiftly  back  to  the 
wharf  of  the  Jesuit  Mission. 


THE    FAVORITE.  $  359 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    CONFESSION. 

ANGRY  and  vehement  indignation  possessed  the  mind  of  the 
Ojibwa  girl,  as  she  came  ashore  at  the  dock  from  which  she 
had  so  recently  departed,  and  received  the  warmest  expression 
of  sympathy  from  the  lay-brothers  of  the  order,  who  had  seen 
the  outrage  committed,  and  who,  notwithstanding  that  they  well 
knew  the  inferior  position  which  was  occupied  by  women  in 
the  Indian  tribes,  and  the  slight  estimation  in  which  they  were 
held,  could  not  overlook,  or  behold,  save  with  indignant  eyes 
and  wounded  feelings,  anything  so  gross  and  unmanly  as  a 
heavy  blow  dealt  by  a  powerful  warrior  against  a  delicate  and 
fragile  girl.  Ahsahgunushk,  moreover,  was  a  general  favorite 
in  the  Mission.  Her  beauty,  her  gentleness  and  intelligence,  had 
won  for  her  the  regard  and  esteem  of  all,  even  of  the  grave  and 
abstracted  elders,  while  among  the  younger,  and  especially  the 
lay  companions  of  the  society,  she  was  looked  upon  with  a 
warmer  and  more  human  feeling,  and  there  were  probably  many 
among  them,  even  of  gentle  birth  from  Normandy,  Touraine, 
and  the  soft  Mediterranean  shores  of  France,  who  would  wil 
lingly  have  overlooked  the  dark  complexion  of  the  Indian  maid, 
and,  in  their  voluntary  isolation  from  the  charms  of  the  fairer 
females  of  their  own  race,  would  have  gladly,  too  gladly,  taken 
her  to  be  a  sharer  of  the  toils,  and  a  consoler  of  the  tedium  of 
the  wilderness. 

There  was,  however,  at  all  times,  a  tranquil  and  dignified 
reserve  evinced  by  the  Reed-shaken-by-the-wind,  which  had 
kept  all  her  admirers  somewhat  at  a  distance,  a  calm  and  un- 


360  AHSAHGUM'SHK    NUMAMAH TAHSEXG. 

suspecting  coldness  in  her  manner  of  receiving  their  compli 
ments  and  courtesy,  as  if  they  were  either  mere  jests,  or  civil 
ities  due  to  her  rank  and  position,  which  had  deterred  them 
from  making  advances,  which,  gay  and  light-hearted  and  self- 
confident  as  these  young  Frenchmen  were,  in  common  with 
most  of  their  countrymen,  they  could  yet  understand  it  to  be 
doubtful  whether  she  would  receive  with  favor. 

Her  eyes  were  very  bright,  as  she  landed,  and  gleaming  with 
wounded  pride,  and  a  keen  sense  of  the  degradation,  which  had 
been  inflicted  on  her  by  that  blow,  given  in  the  presence  of  the 
white  men,  who  abhorred  and  repressed  to  the  utmost  of  their 
ability  the  servitude  and  ignominious  station  which  was  inflicted 
on  the  wives  of  the  aborigines.  Nor,  although  it  was  no  un 
common  thing  for  an  Indian  to  inflict  personal  chastisement  on 
an  offending  wife,  nor  by  any  means  considered  degrading 
either  to  the  recipient  or  the  inflicter  of  the  punishment,  was 
it  usual  or  decorous,  or  indeed  allowable  for  a  chief  even  of  the 
highest  caste  and  distinction,  to  strike  a  maiden,  especially  if 
she  were  the  daughter  of  a  chief  and  of  a  time-honored  race. 

Making  her  way  rapidly  through  the  sympathizing  and  atten 
tive  group,  with  a  burning  cheek,  on  which  the  marks  of  that 
coward  blow  was  still  visible,  and  a  downeast  eye,  answering 
their  remarks  of  sympathy,  and  their  offers  of  prompt  redress, 
by  monosyllables  only,  she  took  her  way  toward  the  fort,  with 
the  intention,  at  first,  of  repairing  immediately  to  Father  Bor- 
romee,  and  of  laying  her  heart  open  to  him,  and  demanding  his 
protection  and  support  against  her  savage  wooer.  Before  she 
reached  the  gate,  however,  a  change  came  over  the  current  of 
her  thoughts,  she  hesitated,  paused,  and  finally  turned  off  into 
a  side  alley  or  avenue  of  the  garden,  screened  from  view  by  an 
espalier  of  trained  fruit-trees,  and  over-arched  by  the  luxuriant 
tendrils  of  the  vine.  As^the  first  eager  sense  of  wrong  and 
anger  began  to  subside  in  her  bosom,  the  memory  of  her  late 


REFLECTIONS.  361 

interview  wilh  the  Jesuit,  the  consciousness  of  her  own  help 
less  passion,  the  shame  of  knowing  that  her  secret  had  been 
penetrated  by  another,  and  the  agonizing  fear  that  it  might  also 
have  been  discovered  by  the  object,  came  home  to  her  heart 
with  sudden  and  terrible  distinctness.  The  revulsion  was  in 
stant  and  overpowering,  and  she  felt  that  he,  to  whom  by  a 
natural  impulse  she  had  intended  to  disclose  her  wrongs,  was 
the  very  last  person  living  to  whom  she  could  speak  freely  on 
such  a  subject,  without  revealing  her  secret,  even  if  at  this 
time  it  was  not  already  revealed  to  him,  from  whom  she  would 
have  most  desired  to  hide  it. 

Then  this  reflection  suggested  yet  another  train  of  thought, 
and  she  began  to  ponder  deeply  on  the  confessional,  which  she 
had  been  enjoined  to  attend  on  the  morrow  ;  on  the  secret — 
the  guilty  secret  as  she  half  believed  it,  which  she  would  be 
compelled  to  relate  with  her  own  trembling  lips,  to  his  aston 
ished  and  perhaps  indignant  ears,  whom  it  concerned  the  most : 
and  to  wonder  how  "she  should  ever  find  courage  for  the  task, 
or  arrange  her  thoughts,  and  frame  her  words  to  syllable  a  con 
fession  so  humiliating  to  pure  and  delicately-minded  woman, 
as  the  avowal,  that  she  had  given  her  love,  not  only  unsought, 
but  where  it  could  not  be  accepted  even  when  freely  tendered, 
where  it  would  perhaps  be  regarded  as  a  sinful  and  heathenish 
artifice,  perhaps  be  cast  back  upon  her  with  disgust  and  rejected 
with  disdain. 

Fuller  and  fuller  waxed  the  overburdened  heart,  anger  and 
indignation  vanished  in  an  instant,  swept  away  by  the  full  tide 
of  despairing  love,  of  maiden  basefulness,  of  shame,  of  terror, 
and  of  deep,  desperate  self-abasement.  The  tears  swelled  fast 
and  silent  to  her  large  dark  eyes,  and  overflowed  her  burning 
cheeks,  and  abandoning  at  once  the  idea  of  appealing  to  any 
earthly  comforter,  or  seeking  any  protection  or  redress  from 
the  friendship  of  mortal  man,  she  hurried  away  with  fleet,  shy 

16 


362  AHSAHGUXUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

footsteps,  to  a  thick,  shadowy  arbor,  all  overrun  with  wild  vines, 
creeping  plants,  ivy,  and  clematis,  at  the  end  of  the  garden 
abutting  on  the  forest,  and  there  casting  herself  on  her  knees 
and  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  wept  bitterly  and  passion 
ately,  while  she  prayed  fervently  for  succor  and  for  strength, 
to  Him,  whom  she  had  loved  to  worship  with  a  sincere  and 
earnest,  though  an  ignorant  and  half-superstitious  devotion. 

Slowly  the  morning  lagged  away  over  the  aching  head  and 
throbbing  heart  of  the  Ojibwa  girl,  who  still  knelt  sad  and 
lonely  in  the  dim  bower,  battling  with  her  undisciplined  heart, 
and  untamed  though  innocent  affections,  while  things  were  pas 
sing  in  the  fort  concerning  in  the  last  degree  the  happiness  of 
her  future,  which,  had  she  suspected  them,  would  have  added 
yet  wilder  anguish  to  a  sorrow,  which  surely  needed  no  ad 
dition. 

Scarcely  had  the  Bald-Eagle  emerged  from  the  water  than 
he  swam  straight  across  to  the  Indian  shore,  and  making  his 
way  in  obdurate  and  haughty  silence  through  the  company  of 
Huron  girls,  who  gazed  at  him  with  eyes  eloquent  of  tranquil 
reproach,  and  now  and  then  muttered  a  word  of  sarcasm  or  di 
rect  reproach,  he  entered  his  own  lodge  in  a  mood  the  most 
fiendish  —  for  in  that  mood  were  concentrated  the  disappoint 
ment  of  a  baffled  man,  the  rancorous  spite  of  a  jealous  man,  the 
irritated  and  embittered  vanity  of  a  proud  and  haughty  man, 
the  selfish  and  stern  persistence  of  an  obstinate  man,  and  the 
deadly  and  unforgiving  hatred  of  a  pitiless,  cold-blooded,  re 
morseless  man,  fancying  himself  wronged,  and  resolute  to  gain 
his  ends,  whether  by  force  or  fraud,  and  to  be  at  once  gratified 
in  his  passions,  and  satiated  in  his  thirst  for  vengeance. 

After  remaining  in  this  mood,  alone  in  his  lodge,  for  some 
thing  better  than  an  hour,  he  made  his  appearance  again  with 
out  ;  having  changed  his  garments,  saturated  by  the  cold  waters 
of  the  Wye,  and  clad  himself  in  his  full  and  ceremonial  attire 


THE    HURON    CHIEF.  363 

as  the  war-chief  of  his  tribe.  He  was  fully  armed,  too,  with 
knife  and  tomahawk  of  French  manufacture,  with  his  bow  in 
its  case,  and  his  quiver  full  of  arrows  at  his  side,  and  his  long- 
barrelled,  smooth-bored  gun  in  his  right  hand,  while  his  bullet- 
pouch  and  powder-horn  were  slung  across  his  shoulders. 

Thus  equipped  and  accoutred,  he  took  his  place  in  the  stern 
of  his  own  canoe,  and  with  half-a-dozen  strokes  of  the  paddle 
set  her  across  the  narrow  river,  made  her  fast  at  the  shore,  and 
walked  slowly  with  a  dogged  and  sullen  air,  and  a  firm,  haughty, 
and  insolent  carriage,  to  the  entrance  into  the  fort,  passing  as 
he  went  several  of  the  lay  brothers,  who  had  witnessed  his 
treatment  of  the  girl,  and  who  now  looked  up  from  the  tasks 
about  which  they  were  all  variously  employed,  to  stare  at  him 
with  abhorrent  eyes,  and  to  express  their  disgust  and  abhor 
rence  of  what  they  termed  the  brutality  and  cowardice  of  the 
man,  in  no  measured  terms  of  reprobation.  None  of  them,  in 
deed,  addressed  him  directly,  probably  in  their  present  humor 
they  would  have  held  it  derogatory  to  themselves  to  do  so,  but 
they  spoke  aloud  and  distinctly,  in  both  the  French  and  the 
Iroquois  tongues,  both  of  which  he  perfectly  understood  ;  and 
they  were  well  assured  that  no  word  which  fell  from  their  lips 
escaped  him.  Yet  he  gave  no  token,  by  either  sign  or  gesture, 
or  by  any  expression  of  anger,  contempt,  or  emotion,  that  he 
heard  or  understood  them  ;  but  passed  onward,  cold,  impassive, 
and  austere,  without  changing  the  position  of  his  head,  without 
turning  an  eye  toward  them,  without  suffering  a  muscle  of  his 
face,  to  display  the  furious  and  revengeful  rage  which  must 
have  been  enkindled  at  his  burning  and  unforgiving  heart,  by 
the  terms  which  he  heard  applied  to  himself,  terms  the  last 
usually  to  be  applied,  and  if  applied,  the  first  to  be  resented  by 
one  so  proud  and  arrogant  as  an  Indian  chieftain. 

On  passing  through  the  archway  into  the  interior  of  the  for 
tress,  for  no  one  had  questioned  or  interrupted  him  as  he  en- 


364          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

tered  the  gate  in  the  stockade,  he  paused  and  asked  of  the  por 
ter  who  was  sitting  within,  cleaning  the  lock  of  a  harquebuss 
where  he  should  see  the  father  Borromee",  and  his  station  being 
well  known  and  recognised,  he  was  instantly  ushered  into  the 
library,  where  he  whom  he  sought,  was  seated  alone  at  a  large 
oaken  table,  covered  with  books,  manuscripts,  and  mathemati 
cal  instruments,  preparing  a  map,  as  it  would  seem,  of  the  great 
Georgian  bay,  with  all  its  islands,  and  the  northern  shores 
with  their  net-work  of  rice  lakes,  swamps,  and  noble  rivers. 

The  priest  raised  his  head  as  the  chief  entered,  and  seeing 
who  it  was,  invited  him  courteously  to  be  seated,  and  inquired 
what  he  could  do  to  pleasure  the  Bald- Eagle,  speaking  to  him 
in  the  Iroquois  dialect,  which  he  used  as  fluently  and  even 
eloquently  as  his  own  polished  tongue. 

"  Justice,"  replied  the  Indian  sternly,  refusing  the  seat  which 
the  Jesuit  had  indicated  by  a  motion  of  his  hand,  with  a  con 
temptuous  gesture.  "  The  Bald-Eagle  is  a  great  chief  of  the 
Ilurons,  he  asks  no  pleasure  of  th,e  sons  of  Jesus,  only  justice 
—  only  his  squaw,  and  justice. 

The  priest  looked  at  the  man  with  some  astonishment,  and 
with  something  of  rebuke  in  his  manner,  for  the  tone  of  the 
Indian  was  arrogant  and  disrespectful  to  say  the  least,  and  his 
air  and  demeanor  bordered  on  insolence,  which  the  priest, 
humble  as  he  was  by  profession  if  not  by  practice,  was  one 
singularly  unlikely  to  endure.  He  had  the  rare  art,  however, 
to  repress  every  outward  indication  of  internal  emotion,  and  to 
preserve  an  impassive  and  inscrutable  countenance  under  all 
circumstances  of  anger,  surprise,  or  apprehension,  and  he  now 
looked  at  his  guest  steadily  and  with  an  inquiring  eye,  but 
manifested  neither  wonder  nor  resentment. 

"  In  what  does  the  Bald- Eagle  require  justice,  or  against 
whom  ?"  he  asked  at  length,  "and  who  is  the  squaw  of  the 
Huron  chief?  —  I  knew  not  that  he  was  wedded." 


THE    DEMAND.  365 

"  Not  wedded,"  replied  the  dark  savage  sullenly.  "  That  it 
—  want  be  wedded  —  want  justice,  want  squaw.  What  for 
pale-face  want  Indian  girl?  —  What  for  priest  want  Ojibwa 
maiden?  Priest  not  wed  any  how — priest  not  have  wife  — 
what  for  not  give  Bald-Eagle  his  own  squaw." 

"  You  must  speak  plainly,  chief,"  answered  the  Jesuit  cold 
ly,  "  if  you  wish  a  reply ;  much  more  if  you  want  assistance, 
or,  as  you  say,  justice.  I  have  neither  the  time  nor  the  wish  to 
guess  the  meaning  of  riddles,  so  you  must  not  speak  them  to 
me.'' 

"  Not  speak  riddles,  tell  you,"  he  replied  in  a  fierce  tone  and 
with  an  angry  gesture.  "  Speak  truth.  Want  squaw,  I  tell 
you.  Want  Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng  ;  what  for  not 
give  her  ?  —  what  for  priest  keep  her,  when  can't  call  wife  ?" 
and  he  burst  out  into  a  long,  vehement,  and  rapid  speech,  de 
tailing  his  love  for  the  Ojibwa  captive,  asserting  his  right  to 
her  as  the  prisoner  of  his  bow  and  lance,  as  the  adopted  daugh 
ter  of  his  father's  wigwam,  demanding  that  the  priest  should 
compel  her  to  become  his  wife,  and  should  forthwith  unite  her 
to  him  in  the  bonds  of  Christian  wedlock. 

The  Jesuit  perceived  that  the  Indian  was  much  excited  if 
not  enraged,  and  being  entirely  ignorant  himself  and  unsus 
picious  of  the  attachment  with  which  he  had  unwillingly  and 
unknowingly  inspired  the  bosom  of  the  maiden,  he  did  not 
comprehend,  or  pay  any  heed  to  the  obscure  allusions  of  the 
jealous  and  suspicious  chief.  He  asked,  therefore,  quietly 
and  in  the  expectation  of  receiving  an  affirmative  answer, 
whether  the  girl  was  willing  to  become  his  wife,  and  begin 
ning  to  believe  that  he  had  found  a  clew  to  the  mystery  of  her 
behavior  in  the  interview  he  had  with  her  in  the  morning. 
What  was  his  surprise  then,  when  he  received  a  reply  couched 
in  tones  of  insolent  fury,  and  accompanied  by  a  fierce  blow  of 


366          AHSAHGUXUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENO. 

the  clenched  hand  on  the  table,  which  rang  and  quivered  to 
the  stroke. 

"  What  for  ask  that,  when  know  ?"  he  shouted.  "  Know  that 
she  not  willing — know  that  make  her  himself  not  willing — 
what  for  priest  ask  lie-question  ?" 

"  How  dare  you,  sirrah,"  said  the  Jesuit,  his  hot  Italian 
blood  out-boiling  at  the  insult,  and  his  pale  face  crimsoning 
with  anger,  as  he  started  to  his  feet,  with  as  much  fiery  excite 
ment  as  though  he  had  been  still  a  warrior,  "  how  dare  you, 
sirrah,  use  such  terms  to  me  ?  You  must  be  mad,  or  drunken 
with  wine.  Begone  —  quit  my  presence,  nor  dare  to  return 
hither  till  you  know  how  to  comport  yourself  toward  your 
superiors." 

"  How  dare  ?"  answered  the  Indian,  glaring  at  him.  "  Hu 
ron  dare  anything — yes,  anything.  Dare  kill  priest,  if 
priest  dare  take  squaw.  Not  begone  at  all  —  not  quit  presence 
till  speak  mind — till  speak  all  mind,  every  bit  —  till  told  all 
truth — till  got  justice  —  till  got  squaw.  Superior!  Ha! 
Where  Indian  chiefs  superior  ?  Tell  that,  ha  !  tell  that.  Hu 
ron  chief  no  superior,  only  the  Great  Spirit.  How  you  dare 
— how  you  dare,  wicked  pale-face,  how  you  dare,  lying  priest, 
love  Ojibwa  girl.  How  you  dare  make  her  love  you  ?"  and 
without  giving  the  Jesuit  time  or  opportunity  to  interrupt  him, 
he  poured  out  a  torrent  of  wild,  fierce,  impassioned  words,  ex 
planations,  accusations,  demands,  denunciations,  threats,  all 
incoherently  and  almost  incomprehensibly  blended.  At  first, 
the  feelings  of  the  father  Borromee  were  those  of  pure  wrath 
and  indignation,  coupled  with  no  idea  what  could  be  the  ori 
gin  of  this  strange  conduct  and  insolent  declamation  on  the 
part  of  one  who,  if  he  had  been  somewhat  arrogant  and  haughty 
in  the  calm  and  grave  austerity  which  he  pictured  to  himself 
as  the  true  mould  of  dignity,  had  never  before  failed  of  respect, 
or  grven  way  to  bursts  of  impudent  aggression  ;  but  by  degrees 


SOLUTION    OF    THE    MYSTERY.  367 

it  began  to  dawn  upon  his  mind  that  there  might  be  something 
of  meaning,  as  there  was  undoubtedly  much  of  method  in  what 
he  had  first  regarded  as  mere  madness.  He  began  to  recollect 
many  trifles,  which  he  had  scarcely  observed,  and  never  noted 
before,  in  the  girl's  demeanor ;  he  thought  of  her  unusual  per 
turbation,  and  the  confusion  and  bashfulriess  of  her  manner 
during  their  interview  that  very  morning,  and  above  all,  at  her 
very  palpable  objection  to  confess  herself  to  him  who  had  al 
ways  before  been  her  chosen  director  and  adviser ;  and  he  be 
gan  most  reluctantly  and  doubtfully  to  admit  to  himself  that  it 
might  be,  indeed,  that  she  loved  him  with  the  unregulated  and 
artless  love  of  a  child  of  nature,  an  unschooled  daughter  of  the 
wilderness. 

This  doubtful  and  most  painful  sensation  led  him  to  supress 
his  indignation  at  the  mode  in  which  the  chief  addressed  him, 
and,  though  he  felt  himself  pure  and  self-acquitted,  he  was  in 
clined  to  feel  and  make  allowance  also  for  the  disappointment, 
the  jealousy,  and  the  rage  of  the  baffled  and  rejected  suitor, 
and  in  some  sort  to  pity  rather  than  to  blame  the  sufferer  too 
severely.  To  one  so  acute  a  reasoner  on  the  motives  which 
sway  the  human  breast,  so  wise  a  judge  of  the  actions,  so  close 
and  correct  a  scrutinizer  of  the  thoughts  of  men,  it  was  not 
difficult  to  obtain  from  the  passionate  and  fluent  lips  of  the 
Huron  chief  a  full  recital  of  all  that  had  occurred  between  him 
and  the  maiden,  even  to  her  positive  rejection  of  his  suit,  and 
the  blow  which  he  had  dealt  her  in  the  vexation  of  his  spirit. 
And- while  he  was,  indeed,  wringing  every  word,  every  admis 
sion  from  the  unwilling  lips  of  the  warrior  by  dint  of  the  most 
rigid  and  ingenious  cross-examination,  the  Indian  never  enter 
tained  a  suspicion  how  completely  he  was  cheated  out  of  his 
unintended  confidence,  but  fancied  that  he  was  heaping  coals 
of  fiery  retribution  on  the  head  of  the  priest,,  and  confounding 
him  by  the  revelations  of  his  own  villany. 


368  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAKSENG. 

At  length  he  ended,  as  he  had  commenced,  by  a  demand 
that  the  girl  should  be  immediately  compelled,  by  the  censure 
and  authority  of  the  church,  to  become  his  wife,  willing  or 
unwilling,  and  united  to  him  in  due  ceremonial  on  the  follow 
ing  day  in  presence  of  the  congregation. 

To  this  demand  the  priest  replied  at  length,  but  by  what  was 
in  fact  a  simple  and  direct  refusal  to  do  what  was  required, 
and  a  positive  denial  of  the  existence  in  himself,  or  in  the 
church  which  he  represented,  of  any  authority  or  power,  such 
as  should  compel  a  girl  to  bestow  herself  in  marriage  contrary 
to  her  own  choice  and  conviction  ;  and  though  he  treated  the 
suspicion  that  she  was  moved  by  any  attachment  to  himself — 
an  attachment  of  which  he  spoke,  could  such  a  thing  be,  as 
corrupt,  sinful,  adulterous,  nay,  almost  incestuous  —  as  a  mere 
chimera  and  hallucination  of  morbid  and  exaggerated  jealousy, 
though  he  endeavored  with  all  his  powers  of  eloquence,  with 
all  his  influence  over  the  spiritual  terrors  of  the  half-converted 
savage,  to  convince,  to  soothe,  to  console  him  —  though  he 
offered  sympathy,  advice,  and  aid,  though  he  offered  to  act  as 
mediator  with  the  maiden,  even  while  he  refused  positively  to 
exercise  any  coercion,  or  even  persuasion,  it  \vas  all  in  vain. 
The  rage  of  the  Indian  was  deeply  grounded  —  his  suspicions 
were  converted  into  certainties,  and  his  own  alternatives  were 
instant  possession  of  the  girl,  or  vengeance,  deep,  thorough, 
and  eternal,  on  all  who  bore  the  name,  or  wore  the  hue,  of 
Christians  and  pale-faces.  With  words  such  as  these,  and  a 
glare  of  the  eye  that  portended  deadly  mischief,  he  turned  on 
his  heel,  and  left  the  Jesuit,  who,  now  roused  again  to  indigna 
tion,  was  rebuking  him  severely  for  his  perversity  and  hardness 
of  heart,  and  threatening  him  with  the  terrors  of  excommuni 
cation. 

Sullenly,  silently  he  strode  back  to  his  canoe,  repassed  the 
river,  and  returning  to  the  village,  where  he  learned  that  the 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  ABSENCE.  369 

Reed-shaken-by-the-wind  had  not  yet  returned  home,  but  was 
believed  to  be  sheltered  in  the  fort  of  the  pale-faces,  whither 
she  had  been  seen  to  repair,  he  once  more  retired  to  his  own 
lodge,  where  he  proceeded  without  delay  to  make  all  prepara 
tions  for  a  hurried  departure  and  long  absence  from  the  settle 
ment. 

At  evening,  when  the  tribesmen  and  chiefs  returned  from 
the  chase,  the  fisheries,  and  the  fields  — for  many  of  them, 
under  the  teaching  of  the  good  Jesuits,  had  learned  something 
of  agriculture,  and  applied  themselves  to  ihe  cultivation  of 
maize,  beans,  and  other  esculent  roots  or  grains — the  Bald- 
Eagle  was  awaiting  them  by  the  council-fire,  where,  without 
the  slightest  allusion  to  what  had  passed  between  himself  and 
the  girl,  or  any  allusion  to  her  name,  he  announced  to  them  his 
intention  of  going  on  a  great  hunt  down  the  shores  of  the  lake, 
to  be  absent  for  a  moon  at  the  least,  and  perhaps  for  a  yet 
longer  period.  Such  voyages  were  not  uncommon  among  the 
bolder  and  more  adventurous  of  the  tribesmen,  so  that  no  won 
der  was  manifested,  though  several  of  the  younger  of  the  war 
riors  desired  permission  to  accompany  him,  in  pursuit,  as  they 
expected,  of  both  sport  and  profit,  if  not  of  honor  ;  the  fur-bear 
ing  animals  were  then  abundant  in  those  regions,  and  peltries 
were  already  beginning  to  be  an  article  of  considerable  value, 
bath  for  use  and  for  exportation,  with  the  Frenchmen  of  the 
provinces  lower  down  the  St.  Lawrence,  with  whom  a  com 
munication  was  maintained  by  means  of  canoes  and  bateaux, 
which  came  up  through  the  inland  water-courses  of  lakes  and 
rivers,  interrupted  by  occasional  portages,  but  extending  far  to 
the  northward  from  the  mouth  of  the  French  river,  on  the 
Georgian  bay,  to  that  of  the  great  Ottawa  river,  above  a  thou 
sand  miles  below,  close  to  the  rising  settlement  of  Montreal. 

Companionship  such  as  this  would  not,  however,  have  suited 
in  the  least  the  views  or  intentions  of  the  Bald-Eagle,  who 

16* 


370          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

contented  himself  by  merely  expressing  his  intention  to  go 
alone,  and  by  indicating  the  inferior  chief  to  whose  guidance 
and  direction  in  the  hunts  and  fisheries  he  desired  his  young 
men  to  submit  themselves.  Nor  did  he  depart  without  in 
structing  his  tribesmen  to  watch  over  the  safety  of  the  good 
pale-faces,  to  supply  them  with  a  due  proportion  of  the  venison, 
the  ducks,  the  bear's-meat,  as  well  as  of  the  white  fish  and 
mamaycush  which  should  fall  to  the  share  of  the  tribe  during 
the  latter  summer  and  the  autumn. 

This  done,  and  all  arrangements  having  been  duly  made,  his 
largest  and  best  canoe  having  been  newly  gummed  and  fitted 
out  with  his  fur  robes  and  blankets,  his  fishing  spears,  and 
traps,  and  implements  of  all  kinds,  in  addition  to  his  much- 
prized  gun,  and  culinary  apparatus,  meager  and  simple  as  that 
was,  as  well  as  with  a  store  of  parched  and  unparched  corn, 
sugar,  and  tobacco,  the  Bald-Eagle  wandered  out  into  the 
camp,  or  village,  and  strayed  through  it  to  and  fro,  as  if  with 
out  any  object,  but,  in  truth,  with  a  hope,  if  it  were  not  with 
an  expectation,  that  he  should  learn  something  of  the  Reed- 
shaken-by-the-wind,  if  he  should  not  succeed  in  seeing  her 
once  more  before  departing  on  the  journey,  which  he  trusted 
would  result  in  making  her  his  own  for  ever. 

She  did  not,  however,  meet  his  eye  —  for,  in  truth,  over 
powered  with  anxiety,  and  worn-out  by  the  vehemence  of  her 
passions,  she  had  sunk  gradually  from  sobbing  into  sleep  with 
in  the  precincts  of  that  green  sequestered  arbor,  and  was  now 
slumbering  in  the  gray  gloaming  of  the  summer's  evening,  for 
getful  of  all  her  sorrows,  and  forgotten  or  neglected  alike  by 
all  her  friends  and  foes,  if  she  indeed  had  any  of  the  latter, 
save  the  enamored  and  irritated  warrior,  whose  thoughts  dwelt 
on  her  altogether,  even  while  his  pride  prevented  him  from 
making  any  direct  inquiries  of  her  presence,  or  her  absence, 
from  the  wigwam  of  his  father. 


NIGHT    IN    THE    WILDERNESS.  371 

None  of  the  girls  of  the  tribe  had  seen  her,  indeed,  since  she 
walked  directly  toward  the  fort  after  the  indignity  which  had 
been  offered  her,  but  they  all  believed  her  to  have  sought  pro 
tection  from  the  insolence  of  her  overbearing  lover  at  the  hands 
of  the  fathers,  and  they  all  rejoiced  at  the  evident  annoyance 
and  disappointment  of  the  chief,  whose  unrequited  love  for  the 
Ojibvva  captive  had  not  escaped  their  quick-sighted  eyes,  and 
whose  overbearing  demeanor,  headstrong  temper,  and  stern 
rudeness  of  disposition,  had  so  little  endeared  him  to  his  tribes- 
women,  that  they  were  certainly  anything  rather  than  annoyed 
by  his  unquestionable  rage  and  spite,  the  causes  of  which,  as 
well  as  of  his  unexpected  departure,  was  no  secret  to  them  at 
least,  whatever  it  might  be  to  the  males  of  their  tribe. 

In  the  meantime  twilight  fell  thick  and  gray ;  the  night- 
hawks  wheeled  aloft  on  balanced  wings  with  their  mournful 
and  oft-repeated  call ;  the  katydids,  those  shrill  alaras  of  the 
west,  opened  their  shrill,  sonorous  serenade  ;  the  frogs  com 
menced  their  loud,  nocturnal  concert  from  the  shallow  marshes 
and  dank  meadow  edges  ;  the  great  owls  hooted  from  the  for 
est-depths,  and  were  answered  by  the  echoes  through  the 
breezeless  night-air ;  the  myriads  of  bright  fire-flies  lighted 
their  amorous  torches,  and  flitted  fast  and  far,  now  glimmer 
ing  clearly,  now  vanishing  into  thick  gloom,  over  the  dewy 
grass,  and  among  the  fragrant  underwood ;  the  fishes  leaped 
out  of  the  water  at  the  swarming  insects,  and  fell  back  with  a 
short  splash  on  the  surface  ;  and,  ever  and  anon,  the  long, 
melancholy  howl  of  a  wolf  would  rise  upon  the  night,  and  die 
away  in  lugubrious  cadences,  striking  a  singular  and  deep  awe 
into  the  boldest  heart.  It  was  night  in  the  wilderness.  The 
evening-bell  of  the  Mission  had  rung  its  last  sweet  chime, 
and  the  long  swell  of  the  choral  voices  had  sent  up  the  vesper 
hymn  to  the  Virgin  Mother  from  the  wood-girded  sanctuary. 
The  stars  came  out  thick  and  bright,  like  diamond-gems  set  in 


372          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

the  dark  azure  canopy  of  the  summer  night,  and  after  a  while 
the  broad  moon,  now  approaching  to  the  full,  soared  up  above 
the  verdurous  tree-tops,  filling  the  heavens  with  her  serene 
and  holy  light,  and  casting  a  broad,  wavering  path  of  silver 
adovvn  the  middle  of  the  river,  enclosed  on  this  hand  and  on 
that  by  the  deep,  black  shadows  on  the  walls  of  stately  ever 
greens,  which  towered  up  from  the  margin  of  the  brimful  cur 
rent,  so  that  no  human  eye  could  discern  which  was  the  limit 
between  the  low  shore  and  the  level  water. 

As  the  light  fell  upon  the  bosom  of  the  waters,  the  canoe 
of  the  Bald-Eagle  shot  out  from  the  shore,  and  under  the 
noiseless  guidance  of  his  well-managed  paddle,  went  down  the 
stream  toward  the  outlet,  and,  long  before  the  first  paly  glim 
mer  of  the  dawn  had  told  of  the  returning  day,  was  skimming 
the  surface  of  the  broad  lake  near  to  the  islet-rock  known  as 
the  giant's  grave,  leaving  no  trace  of  the  path  he  had  taken, 
nor  to  be  seen  again  by  Jesuit  or  neophyte,  till  days  had  run 
on  into  weeks,  till  weeks  had  become  months,  and  the  green 
robes  of  the  summer  forest  had  been  exchanged  for  the  gorge 
ous  purples,  the  crimsons,  and  the  gold  of  their  autumnal  gar 
niture. 

As  the  chief's  canoe  darted  away  and  was  lost  in  the  dark 
ness,  a  change  seemed  to  come  over  the  village  ;  a  change  of 
cheerfulness  and  merriment,  for  the  gay,  light-hearted  laughter 
of  the  happy  girls,  and  now  and  then  a  snatch  of  wild-resound 
ing  song,  rose  up  from  the  neighborhood  of  the  watch-fires,, 
and  the  joyous  shout  of  playful  children,  which  had  been  all 
silenced  and  held  in  sullen  constraint  by  the  perverse  authority 
and  gloomy  mood  of  the  war-chief,  burst  out  with  redoubled 
glee,  freed  from  the  restraint  imposed  by  his  unwelcome  pres 
ence.  He  had  gone  unregretted — and  it  was  evident  enough 
that  his  return,  be  it  late  or  early,  would  meet  with  no  sincere 
or  earnest  welcome. 


MORNING    IN    THE    WILDERNESS.  373 

And  still  in  her  forest-bower,  under  the  pale  lustre  of  the 
moon,  Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng  slept  like  an  innocent 
and  happy  flower,  folded  in  the  fragrance  of  her  own  sweet 
thoughts,  and  unguarded,  except  by  His  care,  who  watches 
ever  over  the  repose  of  the  spotless  and  the  young.  All  night 
long  she  slept  dreamless  and  uninterrupted,  until  the  morning 
was  beginning  to  grow  gray  in  the  east,  and  one  or  two  of  the 
earliest  birds  began  to  chirp  and  flutter  in  the  branches,  then 
she  awoke  suddenly,  and  with  something  of  a  start,  and  even 
after  she  was  awake  she  looked  around  for  the  moment  thought 
fully  and  doubtfully,  as  if  she  were  endeavoring  to  collect 
herself,  and  to  remember  how  or  wherefore  she  had  passed 
the  night  in  that  unusual  and  unfrequented  spot. 

Few  minutes  sufficed  to  bring  everything  that  had  passed 
on  the  previous  day  to  her  memory,  nor  that  only,  for  she  re 
membered  somewhat  uneasily,  that  she  had  the  task  of  confes 
sion  before  her,  and  while  she  recoiled,  as.  a  delicate  and  vir 
tuous  girl  must  recoil  naturally,  from  owning  that  she  had 
granted  her  love  unsolicited,  and  that  she  still  loved  on,  not 
wisely,  but  too  well,  and  that  so  she  must  go  on  living  hope 
less  of  return,  until  life  itself  should  be  over ;  -still,  as  a  sin 
cere  and  faithful  catholic,  she  never  contemplated  anything 
short  of  confessing  the  whole  undisguised  and  undistorted 
truth,  believing  that  otherwise  she  could  not  so  much  even  as 
hope  for  salvation,  and  confident  that  she  should  receive  con 
solation  and  pity  for  weakness,  though  she  looked  for  no  sym 
pathy,  and  absolution  of  her  sin  from  her  gentle  and  grave 
director. 

This  morning,  too,  in  the  pure  light  of  the  early  dawn,  in 
the  soft  and  gentle  air,  and  in  the  midst  of  all  sweet  rural 
sounds  and  sights,  apart  from  any  external  influences  to  dis 
turb,  or  internal  emotions  to  distract  her  mind,  she  could  think 
and  reason  more  rationally,  and  with  a  clearer  judgment  of  her 


374  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

duties  and  her  rights,  both  as  a  Christian  and  woman,  than 
she  had  been  able  to  do  when  struggling  in  the  first  pangs  of  a 
newly-comprehended  and  hopeless  attachment,  and  striving 
against  the  haughty  and  over-mastering  will  of  a  being  at  once 
powerful  and  selfish,  with  whom  contention  must,  be  difficult, 
if  not  altogether  vain,  and  whom  she  regarded  with  abhor 
rence  the  more  settled  in  proportion  to  the  obstinacy  with 
which  he  seemed  resolved  to  press  on  her  his  odious  suit. 

Now,  therefore,  she  had  neither  doubt  nor  fear,  but  resolved 
at  once  to  attend  the  regular  service  of  the  day,  to  pour  out 
her  whole  soul  in  the  confessional,  to  implore  the  protection 
of  the  order  against  the  oppressor  of  the  Iroquois,  and  if  she 
could  avert  by  no  other  means  that  detested  union,  to  devote 
herself  to  perpetual  celibacy,  becoming  the  bride  of  heaven, 
and  giving  up  for  ever  all  vain  imaginations,  all  hopes  of  the 
woman's  brightest  prospect,  a  happy  wedded  life,  and  a  serene 
old  age,  and  peaceful  death-bed,  amid  the  quiet  tears  of  affec 
tionate  and  mournful  children. 

No  sooner  had  she  collected  her  thoughts,  and  made  up  her 
mind  as  to  the  course  she  would  pursue,  than  she  stole  rapidly 
through  the  dimmest  and  least-frequented  walks  to  the  edge 
of  the  river,  for  she  knew  not  as  yet  whether  the  inhabitants 
of  the  fort  were  stirring  and  the  gates  open,  and  she  had  no 
desire  to  call  attention  to  her  proceedings,  or  to  be  required  to 
reply  to  any  question  as  to  the  where  or  wherefore  she  had 
passed  that  night  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  village,  and  with 
out  her  own  lodge.  But.  it  was  too  early  as  yet  for  her  fears 
to  be  justified,  the  dwellers  in  the  mission-house  were  all  still 
buried  in  deep  sleep,  and  the  girl  made  her  way,  unobserved, 
down  to  the  spot  where  she  had  left  her  canoe,  unfastened  it 
from  the  pile  to  which  she  had  attached  the  painter,  and  pad 
dling  rapidly  over  to  the  other  shore,  stole  with  a  foot  so  light 
and  noiseless  among  the  skin-tents,  and  wood-built  lodges  of 


THE    HURON    GIRLS.  375 

the  village,  that  she  reached  her  own  wigwam  unsuspected, 
and  when  an  hour  or  two  afterward,  when  the  camp  was 
awakened,  and  the  dim  voices  were  heard  once  more  on  the 
peaceful  banks  of  the  Wye,  she  issued  from  the  door  of  her 
dwelling,  with  her  hair  neatly  dressed,  her  dress  decorously 
arranged,  and  her  dark  skin  healthfully  glowing  after  her  usual 
bath  in  the  clear,  cold  waters  of  the  neighboring  river.  There 
was  some  little  hurry  and  excitement  displayed  by  the  Huron 
girls  as  they  saw  their  companion,  absent  as  they  knew  her  to 
have  been  at  the  close  or  night,  issue  from  her  dwelling  as 
tranquilly  as  if  she  had  passed  the  night  therein  in  customary 
sleep,  but  they  betrayed  no  indiscreet  curiosity,  no  uttered 
remarks  even  to  her,  much  less  to  others,  which  would  induce 
any  questions  or  remarks  concerning  her  disappearance  and 
return.  After  awhile,  however,  when  they  were  satisfied  that 
the  suspicions  of  none  of  the  chiefs  pointed  to  the  subject  of 
their  own  surmises,  they  all  began  to  crowd  around  her,  to 
inquire  into  the  cause  and  the  meaning  of  the  strange  scene 
which  they  had  observed  on  board  the  canoe,  and  to  tell  her  of 
the  departure  of  the  Bald-Eagle  on  a  long  hunting-excursion, 
which  they  all  attributed  unanimously  to  her  peremptory  rejec 
tion  of  the  young  warrior's  suit. 

The  Reed-shaken-by-the-wind  replied  as  slightly  and  in 
definitely  as  might  be  ;  but  her  surprise  and  pleasure  at  the 
unexpected  and  welcome  departure  of  the  chief,  were  too  great 
and  too  sincere  to  be  disguised,  much  less  concealed,  and  she 
laughed  as  heartily  and  gayly  as  if  she  had  not  spent  half  the 
preceding  day  and  night  in  tears  that  would  not  be  consoled, 
when  the  girls  described  with  faint  mimicry  the  gloomy  and  sul 
len  disappointment  with  which  the  Bald-Eagle  had  stalked  to 
and  fro  among  the  lodges,  from  dewy  eve  well-nigh  to  midnight 
in  search  of  her,  though  he  had  been  too  cunning  to  ask  any 
overt  questions,  arid  had  departed  without  suffering  any  one  of 


AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

the  warriors  to  suspect  the  reasons  of  his  going,  or  ascertain 
ing  where  she  was  whose  repulse  had  driven  him  to  seek 
consolation  in  the  wild  sports  of  the  woods  and  waters 

Hope  cheerfully  dawned  ,„  the  poor  girl's  breast  as  she  lis- 
tened,  and  she  fully  believed  that  between  shame  at  the  un 
manly  part  he  had  played -striking  a  woman  before  the  eyes 
»  many  witnesses-and  mortification  at  the  unfavorable 
reception  of  his  addresses,  he  had  abandoned  the  pursuit,  and 
taken  th,s  way  of  showing  her  that  he  had  withdrawn  himself 
in  the  capacity  of  suitor,  and  she  now  felt  that  she  could  go 
through  the  duty  to  which  she  had  bound  herself,  not  content 
edly  only,  but  gratefully,  and  with  a  good  hope  of  favorable 
and  happy  results.     For  she  was  a  woman  of  strong  mind  and 
energet.c  will,  and  once  convinced  that  her  love  was  hopeless 
rain,  and  unmaidenly,  if  not  actually  sinful  and  impious,  she' 
was  not  one  to  suffer  it  to  haunt  her  to  her  misery  and  degra 
dation,  but  to  tear  it  from  her  heart  of  hearts,  even  if  the  heart- 
rings  must  needs  break  with  the  shock. 
By  the  time  that  the  few  light  feminine  duties  of  the  day 
were  performed,  and  the  morning-meal  prepared  and  taken, 
began  to  announce  that  it  was  holyday,  and  to  summon 
the  dusky  worshippers  to  be  present  at  the  celebration  of  hi.* 
mass  m  the  chapel,  whither  the  brethren  were  even  now  con 
gregating ;  and  with  their  humble  offerings,  and  innocent  and 
happy  hearts,  the  poor  Indian  maidens  hastened  to  meet  their 
spiritual  advisers,  and  to  do  homage  at  the  altar  of  grace 

The  service  was  performed,  all  shorn  of  the  splendors  of  its 
pompous  and  sublime  ceremonial,  a  few  home-made  candles 
only  gleaming  through  the  mist  of  incense  collected  from  the 
native  gums  and  aromatic,  of  the  forest,  ministered  by  no 
splendidly-attired  priests  in  alt,  and  cope,  and  dalmatique,  nor 
harbmgered  by  the  glorious  swell  of  sacred  music  and  the 
deep  diapason  of  the  pealing  organ,  but  it  was  heard  by  hum- 


THE    CONFESSION.  377 

ble  and  attentive  ears,  and  garnered  up  in  penitent  and  trust 
ing  hearts  ;  and  it  may  well  be  that  the  little  flock  gathered 
from  the  howling  wilderness  into  the  fold  of  the  truth,  was 
found  more  acceptable  in  the  eyes  of  the  All-seeing  than  many 
a  wealthier  and  prouder  congregation.  After  the  masses  were 
ended,  a  few  of  the  warriors  and  many  of  the  younger  girls 
entered  the  confessional,  and  after  recounting  their  simple 
errors,  and  rehearsing  their  half-unconscious  doubts,  briefly  re 
ceived  full  absolution.  But  not  till  all  beside  had  departed  did 
Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng  enter  the  stall  of  the  penitent, 
so  that  no  ear  heard  the  deep  sobs  of  shame  and  anguish  with 
which  she  rehearsed  her  sad  but  sinless  tale,  or  marked  the 
suppressed  groans  of  the  strong-minded,  energetic  man  who 
listened  to  her  artless  speech ;  but  when  they  issued  from  the 
chapel,  all  saw  that  the  sweet  maiden's  face  was  radiant  with 
tranquil  peace  and  serene  happiness,  while  the  high  features 
of  the-  Father  Borromee  were  darker  and  more  gloomy  than 
their  wont.  That  night  he  kept  vigils  alone  before  the  cross, 
and  the  clang  of  the  self-inflicted  scourge  was  heard  above  the 
"  culpa  mea"  and  the  "  ora  pro  nobt's"  and  the  steps  of  the 
high  altar  reeked  red  on  the  morrow  with  dark  blood-gouts 
from  the  lacerated  flesh  of  the  self-condemned  and  penitent 
ascetic,  who  visited  thus  grievously  upon  himself  the  punish 
ment  of  his  unconscious  error,  hoping  that  therefore  vengeance 
would  hold  aloof  from  him  hereafter,  and  the  atonement  be 
accepted  on  high. 


378  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE    RETURN. 

DAYS  had  coursed  onward  until  they  became  weeks,  weeks 
had  been  numbered  until  months  had  flown  ;  the  deep  blue 
skies  of  July  and  August  had  exchanged  their  rich  azure  hue 
for  the  soft  golden  lustre  and  mellow  purple  haze  of  Indian 
summer  ;  the  green  leaves  of  the  forest  had  put  on  the  colors 
of  the  rainbow,  and  reflected  in  the  transparent  waters  of  the 
lake  and  its  tributaries  floated  double,  reality  and  semblance 
indistinguishable.  The  wild-pigeons  had  ceased  to  obscure 
the  sun  with  the  migrations  of  their  countless  myriads,  the 
wild  ducks  had  come  in  by  thousands  and  hundreds  of  thou 
sands  from  the  northward,  and  ever  and  anon  in  the  early  gray 
of  the  dawning,  and  among  the  dank  dews  falling  thick  at  even 
tide,  the  hoarse  "  hawnking"  of  the  innumerable  phalanxes  of 
geese  might  be  heard  clamoring  and  clanging  amid  the  clouds 
as  they  oared  their  way  through  the  thin,  pallid  air,  with  the 
slow,  circular  sweep  of  their  huge  pinions,  to  their  warm  hy- 
bernacula  in  the  sounds  and  lagoons  of  the  Atlantic  waters, 
and  the  tepid  pools  and  evergreen  morasses  of  the  southern 
Florida 

The  Iroquois,  their  autumnal  hunts  and  fisheries  ended,  had 
come  in  for  the  most  part  to  the  village,  and  absented  them 
selves  now  for  days  only,  not  for  weeks,  for  the  lake  was  al 
most  continually  stirred  into  wrath  by  the  northwestern  gales, 
and  its  surface  was  ploughed  up  into  long,  ridgy  rollers,  burst 
ing  and  curling  their  white  and  foamy  caps,  and  threatening 


PROVISIONS    FOR    WINTER.  379 

destruction  to  stronger  and  more  solidly-built  vessels,  if  less 
buoyant,  than  the  fragile  bark  canoes  of  the  Indians. 

The  wigwams,  from  the  richest  to  the  poorest,  were  well 
provided  with  meat.  Deer  had  been  taken  in  abundance, 
many  bears  had  been  brought  in,  ducks  by  hundreds  and  geese 
by  scores,  with  salmon-trout  and  white-fish  by  the  quintal  were 
smoking  at  the  fires  of  every  lodge,  even  the  poorest.  The 
storehouse  and  garners  of  the  Mission  were  literally  overflow 
ing  with  the  produce  of  the  fields  and  gardens,  blessed  this 
year  with  abundant  crops,  and  with  the  flesh  and  fowl  of  the 
forest,  and  the  fish  of  the  great  waters,  so  that  they  could  right 
easily  have  braved  the  coming  inclement  season,  heedless  of 
fresh  supplies,  not  for  themselves  alone,  but  for  the  friendly 
neophytes,  should  any  chance  or  improvidence  cause  them  to 
fall  short  of  provisions  during  the  season  of  snows,  when  the 
lakes  are  bound  with  fetters  of  thick-ribbed  ice,  and  the  forest 
tracts  buried  in  deepest  snows,  present  no  inducement  to  the 
hunter  to  brave  fatigue  and  famine  in  traversing  their  vacant 
and  inhospitable  recesses,  for  the  deer  had  already  for  the 
most  part  gone  southward,  and  moose  and  cariboo,  the  great 
winter  game  of  the  northern  wilderness,  are  not  found  general 
ly  to  the  west  or  southward  of  the  great  Canadian  Ottawa. 

In  the  meantime,  all  peacefully  and  happily  had  the  days  of 
summer  ebbed  away  over  the  heads  of  the  unwarlike,  and  un 
ambitious  Jesuits,  all  calmly  and  bounteously  had  their  labors 
in  the  earlier  seasons  been  repaid  by  the  abundant  ingatherings 
of  the  rich  autumn.  The  gardens  still  wore  a  gay  aspect,  for 
the  grapes,  golden  and  purple,  still  adorned  the  vines  with 
clusters  worthy  of  la  belle  France,  and  among  the  sere  leaves 
of  the  orchards  glanced  pippin  as  lustrous  in  their  tints  as  the 
most  brilliant  of  fair  Normandy,  the  land  of  sparkling  cider 
vats,  sacred,  above  all  others,  to  Pomona.  The  maize-fields 
had  yielded  their  abundance,  and  the  great  golden  pumpkins 


380          AHSAHGUNUSHK  XUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

had  been  gathered  into  the  stores  and  root-houses,  ample  pro 
vision  for  their  stock  of  domestic  animals  during  the  rigors  of 
the  approaching  winter. 

During  the  latter  days  many  of  the  younger  priests  of  the 
order,  and  all  the  lay-brethren,  as  the  fields  no  longer  claimed 
their  labors  or  occupied  their  time,  had  given  some  hours  of 
each  morning  to  the  bold  and  perilous  excitement  of  the  chase, 
which  was  not  to  them  so  much  a  sport,  as  a  resource  for  the 
maintenance  of  their  tables  and  the  clothing  of  their  bodies, 
and — for  they  were  not,  as  I  have  observed,  home-keeping  and 
half-emasculated  drones,  like  the  dwellers  of  European  con 
vents,  but  bold,  practical,  energetic,  well-disciplined,  equally 
fitted  for  the  hardships  of  the  wilderness  and  the  intrigues  of 
polished  cabinets,  or  the  casuistry  of  rival  churches  —  great 
had  been  their  success,  and  well  nigh  invaluable  their  spoils 
won  in  the  forest.  Many  a  lordly  buck  had  been  brought  in. 
many-antlered  ;  many  a  sturdy  bear  had  contributed  his  massy 
chine  and  huge  hams  to  the  flesh-pots  and  salting-tubs,  and  his 
robes  to  the  simple  but  efficient  tanneries  of  the  natives,  and 
as  the  days  waned  gradually  more,  and  the  mornings  opened 
late,  and  the  evenings  closed  in  early,  the  workshops  gave  em 
ployment,  the  forge  glowed,  and  the  anvils  rang,  the  labora 
tories  had  their  votaries,  the  library  was  crowded  with  noc 
turnal  students,  pouring  forth  lore  of  every  kind,  manuscripts, 
and  plans,  and  maps  ;  histories,  treatises,  geology,  natural  sci 
ences,  casuistry,  policy,  and  theology,  all  finding  their  several 
authors,  all  going  to  swell  the  bulk  of  documents,  which  should 
be.  transmitted  to  Montreal,  and  thence  across  the  broad  At 
lantic,  with  the  departure  of  the  spring  caravan  of  voyageurs 
and  Indians,  down  the  intricate  water-courses  and  over  the 
rugged  portages  of  the  lake  Nipissing  and  the  roaring  rapids 
of  the  vast  Ottowa.  Alas  !  that  it  was  not  so  fated. 

Nor  in  the  interval  of  the  Bald-Eagle's  absence  had  things 


SELF-CONQUEST.  381 

not  gone  well  with  the  beautiful  and  bright,  now  joyous  and 
serene  as  ever,  and  as  of  old  the  charm  of  all,  and  seemingly 
at  least,  the  happiest  of  the  happy ;  for  from  the  day  which 
had  seen  the  departure  of  the  young  chief,  and  the  confession 
of  her  hopeless  passion  to  the  well-regulated  and  self-restrained 
director  of  her  conscience,  she  had  felt  herself  liberated  from 
the  persecution  she  had  endured  from  the  young  Iroquois,  had 
ceased  to  brood  over  a  passion  half-imaginative  and  dangerous 
only  because  it  had  been  indulged  and  brooded  over  in  silence 
and  solitude,  and  had  so  far  at  least  eradicated  it,  that  she  felt 
no  warmer  emotion  toward  her  grave  and  pure-minded  adviser, 
than  a  child  might  feel  toward  a  gentle  and  indulgent  father, 
or  a  much  younger  sister  to  a  kind  and  devoted  brother.  And 
he,  as  soon  as  he  perceived  that  the  mind  of  the  maiden  was 
not  really  diseased,  but  only  lightly  touched  by  thick-coming 
fancies,  and  emotions  proceeded  from  a  stricken  imagination 
rather  than  from  a  wounded  heart,  had  demeaned  himself  to 
ward  her  with  so  much  quiet  skill  in  the  treatment  of  human 
affections,  not  appearing  to  aVoid  her  or  to  consider  that  there 
was  anything  wrong,  but  seeming  to  consider  the  whole  rather 
at  an  end  so  soon  as  it  was  confessed  and  absolution  granted, 
and  bore  himself  so  paternally,  so  gravely,  and  yet  so  benig- 
nantly,  that  what  might  by  a  different  line  of  conduct  have 
been  exaggerated  into  a  baneful,  sinful,  and  unconquerable  pas 
sion,  speedily  declined  into  a  pure,  a  genial,  and  a  hallowed 
affection,  even  as  the  fiery  glow  and  consuming  heat  of  a  mid 
summer's  noon,  mellows  and  melts. away  into  the  soft  and  de 
licious  warmth  of  tranquil  dewy  eve,  with  the  crescent  moon 
and  holiest  evening  star  replacing  the  intense  and  sultry  day- 
god. 

And  in  their  self-denial  and  self-conquest,  both  were  happy, 
he  in  his  priestly  wisdom  and  manly  virtue,  she  in  her  inno 
cence  and  maiden  purity.  Both  had  been  tempted  in  some 


382  AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSEXG. 

sort,  both  had  striven  against  the  tempter,  both  had  conquered, 
and  met  each  one  the  appropriate  and  sure  reward  which  never 
fails  to  follow  self-resistance  and  self-conquest,  the  balm  of  a 
tranquil  spirit,  the  blessed  consolation  of  a  self-approving  and 
self-gratulating  heart. 

On  a  fitting  opportunity,  so  soon  as  he  perceived  that  she 
was  seriously  and  sincerely  struggling  with  herself,  he  had  re 
lated  to  her  much,  more  perhaps  than  he  had  ever  done  to 
any  human  being,  of  the  trials,  the  sorrows,  the  agonies,  the 
temptations,  and  the  triumph  of  his  past  life.  How  he  had 
won  fame  and  wealth,  high  name  and  rank  on  the  battle-field, 
only  to  lavish  them  on  one,  the  fairest  of  her  sex,  but,  alas  ! 
almost  the  frailest;  how  she  had  been  his  own  —  all,  as  he 
vainly  dreamed,  his  own  —  for  a  few  short  months  of  perfect 
bliss  and  rapture  ;  how  she  had  fallen  from  the  way  of  virtue, 
and  become  the  merest  castaway ;  how  in  disgust  and  disap 
pointment  he  had  taken  up  the  cross  of  Christ,  and  borne  it 
faithfully,  until  the  seed  sown  in  bitterness  and  misery  bore 
good  fruit  unto  righteousness  ;  how  in  after-days  she  came  to 
him  a  penitent,  unknowing  that  he  to  whom  she  came  implo 
ring  heavenly  pardon,  had  himself  so  much  to  forgive  ;  and 
how  it  was  the  happiest  moment  of  an  unhappy  life,  when  he 
could  believe  her  reconciled  to  man  and  to  God,  and  pronounce 
her  absolution  with  an  undoubting  heart.  She  died,  and  his 
love  which  had  never  faltered,  though  imperious  honor  forbade 
him  to  indulge  or  display  it,  slept  beside  her  in  the  grave  of 
the  repentant  sinner,  illumining  her  memory  and  gilding  her 
ashes,  like  sunshine  on  a  nameless  monument.  He  told  her 
how,  in  after-days,  it  was  his  happy  lot  to  fall  in  with  the  de 
stroyer  of  his  love,  his  honor,  of  all  but  his  virtue  and  his  rea 
son,  depressed  as  he  was  depraved,  deep  sunk  in  misery  as  in 
crime  ;  how  when  vengeance  was  easy  alike  and  certain,  un 
recognised  himself  he  recognised  his  mortal  foe,  relieved  his 


PROMISE    OF    PROTECTION.  383 

wants,  consoled  his  parting  agonies,  and  abstained  even  from 
heaping  the  coals  upon  his  guilty  head,  by  whispering,  "  Lo  ! 
I  am  he,  whom  thou  didst  rob  of  all  that  made  life  happy,"  but 
suffered  him  in  charity  to  pass  away,  supposing  his  kind  bene 
factor  to  be  but  another  good  Samaritan,  who  had  ministered 
to  his  necessities,  and  little  suspecting  that  he  was  one  who 
might  be  regarded  as  the  avenger  of  blood,  soothing  the  death 
bed  of  his  heart's  murderer. 

She  wept  as  the  father  calmly  recited  the  tale  of  his  own 
grievous  sorrows,  arid  as  she  perceived  how  bitter  they  had 
been  as  compared  with  her  own,  and  how  light,  in  truth,  were 
her  own  annoyances  and  trials,  she  could  not  persist  in  obsti 
nate  and  sullen  grief,  even  had  she  been  more  inclined  than 
she  indeed  was  to  perversity  of  temper,  but  giving  herself  up 
entirely  to  the  strengthening  influence  of  his  right  admonitions, 
she  took  to  herself  fortitude  with  humility,  and  resignation 
with  hope,  and  soon  and  with  little  difficulty  subdued  her  own 
heart,  and  was  once  more  as  single-hearted  and  serene  a 
maiden  as  any  within  the  sound  of  the  silver  bell  of  the  Jesuits. 

Touched  by  her  docile,  moreover,  and  deeply  moved  by  the 
earnest  and  enthusiastic  will  and  spirit  which  lay  concealed 
under  an  exterior  so  artless,  so  affectionate  and  child-like,  the 
father  Borromee  had  promised  her,  that  in  case  of  the  return 
of  the  Bald-Eagle,  and  the  renewal  on  his  part  of  attempt  to 
coerce  or  terrify  her  into  an  unwilling  marriage>  he  wrould  use 
his  influence  with  the  elder  chiefs  of  the  tribe  to  prevent  the 
consummation  of  sacrifice,  and  should  remonstrance  and  re 
buke  prove  ineffectual,  that  he  would  himself  take  her  under 
his  protection,  and  set  his  absolute  veto  on  the  unpermitted 
contract ;  and  calmed  instantly  by  that  promise  she  recovered 
all  her  wonted  cheer  and  merry  lightness  of  heart,  for  of  a 
truth  she  believed  his  will  to  be  irresistible,  his  authority  over 
the  greatest  chiefs  of  the  most  puissant  tribes  undoubted;  and 


384          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

his  power  but  little  inferior  to  that  of  the  omnipotent  and  om 
nipresent  Ruler,  whose  majesty  and  mightiness  his  eloquent 
words  had  proclaimed  to  the  people,  and  whose  delegated  au 
thority  he  seemed  to  sway  with  a  will  so  serene  and  steady,  a 
fortitude  so  perfect?  and  a  benevolence  so  God-like.  And 
doubtless,  when  he  promised,  he  believed  himself  certain  of 
ability  to  perform,  nor  doubted  that  his  power  was  as  absolute 
over  the  minds  and  tempers  of  his  Indians  in  matters  temporal, 
as  it  was  over  their  souls  in  things  spiritual. 

Father  Borromee,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  not  the  su 
perior  of  the  establishment  by  rank  or  by  seniority,  though  in 
all  respects  as  regarded  the  governance  of  men's  minds,  the 
practical  affairs  of  the  order,  the  domestic  and  political  econ 
omy  of  the  mission,  he  was  by  far  more  eminently  qualified 
than  the  actual  president,  a  much  older  man,  deeply  versed  in 
the  lore  and  the  tactics  of  the  cloister,  an  able  casuist,  a  subtle 
theologist,  arid  an  apt,  courtier-like,  soft-mannered  politician 
of  courts  and  cabinets  ;  and,  with  the  rare  skill  which  the 
Jesuits  invariably  brought  to  bear  on  all  worldly  matters,  this 
fact  was  at  once  acknowledged,  and  the  whole  practical  and 
physical  management  of  the  missions  was  attributed  to  and 
performed  by  Father  Borromee,  who  had  therefore  come  to  be 
regarded  by  the  Indians  as  in  truth  the  great  man  ;  while  the 
real  president,  living  in  abstraction  and  apart,  dealing  more 
with  books  than  with  men,  often  employed  in  abstruse  sciences, 
which  they  regarded  as  magical,  both  in  their  causes  and 
effects,  never  taking  any  part  in  either  the  labors  of  the  field 
or  the  toils  of  the  chase,  and  never,  in  fact,  descending  upon 
the  scene  at  all,  nisi  dignus  vindice  nodus,  was  looked  upon 
almost  as  a  supernatural  being,  and  supposed  by  some  to  be  a 
direct  emanation  from  and  representative  of  the  Great  Spirit. 

Such  was  the  position  of  affairs  at  the  fort,  and  such  the 
circumstances  of  the  various  personages,  when,  in  the  last 


BALD-EAGLE'S  RUMORED  RETURN.  385 

days  of  October,  without  its  being  asserted  that  any  one  had 
seen  him  or  fallen  in  with  his  tracks,  or  with  any  signs  of  his 
presence,  it  began  to  be  whispered  among  the  Indians  that 
the  Bald-Eagle  was  in  the  neighborhood  ;  and  what  seemed 
strange,  the  rumor  was  coupled  to  a  singular  and  unusual  sort 
of  excitement,  not  apparently  unmingled  with  some  sort  of 
blind  apprehension,  which  might  well  degenerate  into  some 
panic  terror. 

This  rumor  coming  to  the  ears  of  Father  Borromee,  he 
called  some  of  the  elder  chiefs  to  council,  and  finding  that  the 
tribe  had  been  preparing  their  arms,  and  had  even  gone  so  far 
as  to  post  sentinels  on  several  occasions,  he  applied  himself 
earnestly  to  inquire  into  the  causes  of  their  belief  of  the  Bald- 
Eagle's  presence  in  the  vicinity,  and  yet  more,  of  their  seem 
ingly  unaccountable  apprehension  of  peril,  since  it  was  certain 
that  no  hostile  Indian  tribe  had  their  hunting-grounds,  or  any 
permanent  place  of  residence  within  a  hundred  leagues  at  least 
of  the  fort  on  the  Wye.  Still,  however,  strange  as  it  seemed 
and  fanciful,  and  altogether  improbable  that  anything  of  the 
kind  should  be  brewing,  the  Jesuit  was  so  well  aware  of  the 
singular  combination  of  superstition  and  shrewdness  which 
exists  in  the  Indian  character,  and  of  their  marvellous  instinc 
tive  faculty  of  foreseeing  events  ere  they  come  to  pass  —  the 
result,  doubtless,  of  some  inductive  and  reasoning  process, 
starting  from  certain  facts  known  to  themselves,  and  thence 
working  to  conclusions,  but  that  process  one  which  either  they 
can  not  or  will  not  explain  —  that  he  would  not  give  up  the 
matter  without  a  painful  and  close  investigation.  He  could 
discover  nothing,  however,  of  the  least  moment.  For  every 
one  of  the  chiefs  asserted  positively,  and  in  terms  which  ad 
mitted  of  no  qualification,  that  no  tidings  had  been  received  in 
any  manner  of  the  Bald-Eagle  since  the  night  of  his  departure, 
that  they  had  no  suspicion  where  he  was,  whither  he  had 

17 


386  AHSAI1GUXUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

gone,  or  what  detained  him  so  late  at  a  distance  from  the  hunt 
ing-grounds  of  the  tribe,  and  that,  too,  at  a  season  when  it 
might  be  confidently  expected  that  a  few  more  days  at  farthest 
would  bring  snow,  and  a  week  or  two  longer  would  close  up 
the  lakes  and  rivers  with  icy  chains,  indissoluble  until  the  re 
turn  of  spring.  Still  they  all  stuck  religiously  to  their  opinion, 
although  they  could  give  no  earthly  reason  for  their  entertain 
ing  it.  "  That  may  be  he  very  much  near-by  —  may  be  come 
to-morrow  —  may  be  next  day."  Nor  did  one  of  them  fail  to 
assert  his  belief  that  "  Something  bad  not  far  off — may  be  bad 
Indian  coming."  It  was  useless,  of  course,  to  argue  with 
them,  and,  in  fact,"  the  Jesuit  was  so  much  struck  by  the  una 
nimity  and  pertinacity  with  which  they  held  fast  to  their  be 
lief,  that  he  felt  no  inclination  to  argue  them  out  of  it,  but 
rather  encoumged  them  to  keep  a  good  look-out,  and  even  ad 
vised  Che  setting  of  a  nightly-watch,  the  distribution  of  the 
arms  and  ammunition  to  the  brethren  and  lay-brothers,  and 
even  the  loading  of  the  wall-pieces  nightly,  precautions  which 
had  not  for  a  long  period  been  adopted,  such  perfect  peace  and 
tranquillity  had  ever  existed  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  society, 
but  which  he  now  justified  by  admitting  his  strong  suspicion 
that  the  Indians  had  in  reality  discovered  some  signs  or  tracks 
which  told  them  of  peril  at  hand,  although  they  did  not  choose 
to  disclose  the  sources  of  information. 

A  certain  restless  and  uneasy  feeling  had  circulated  there 
fore  among  the  order,  which  really  would  seem  often  to  be  the 
harbinger  and  precursor  of  groat  events.  The  gates  were 
secured  regularly,  and  watches  planted  and  relieved  at  sunset, 
and  throughout  the  hours  of  darkness.  The  brothers  slept 
with  weapons  and  ammunition  ready  to  their  hands,  and  never 
went  out  even  to  work  in  the  fields  without  arms  slung  at  their 
backs  ;  and  yet,  well  entrenched,  well  supplied  with  provisions 
and  water,  for  there  was  a  well  within  the  precincts  of  the 


THE    ALARM.  387 

fort,  well  armed,  well  garrisoned,  and,  above  all,  provided  with 
artillery,  which  the  Indians  held  in  great  awe,  they  had  little 
apprehension  and  less  doubt  of  beating  off  any  attack,  should 
one  be  made  ;  the  more  so  that  the  season  was  so  late  that 
it  would  scarcely  be  possible  for  an  enemy  to  keep  the  field 
after  another  month. 

After  some  days  of  this  wild  suspense,  on  a  dark  and  stormy 
night  in  the  early  part  of  November,  not  very  long  after  the 
gates  had  been  closed,  all  the  dogs  of  the  garrison  began  to 
bay  fiercely,  and  then  to  howl  most  lugubriously,  although 
there  was  no  moon  to  excite  them,  nor  any  sounds  that  reached 
the  ears  of  the  sentinels.  Not  long  afterward,  however,  a 
dripping  sound,  as  if  from  a  paddle  incautiously  and  rapidly 
wielded,  was  heard  from  the  river,  and  was  immediately  suc 
ceeded  by  a  yell  so  startling  and  long-drawn,  that  all  who 
heard  it  were  assured  at  the  instant,  that  some  tidings  of 
strange  import  were  at  hand  ;  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to 
describe  it,  the  whole  community  was  mustered  and  under 
arms,  in  expectation  of  I  know  not  what  terrible  and  disas 
trous  tidings.  Within  a  minute  or  two  such  a  burst  was  heard 
from  the  Indian  camp  of  savage  cries  and  whoops,  that  it  was 
very  certain  that  something  of  note  had  occurred.  In  a  mo 
ment  the  whole  village  was  afoot,  fire-brands  were  gleaming 
in  all  directions,  and  it  was  soon  apparent  that  the  Indians 
were  striking  their  tents,  and  dismantling  their  more  permanent 
abodes  of  all  their  valuables,  which  they  were  hastily  em 
barking  on  board  their  canoes  as  if  by  one  consent.  A  minute 
or  two  afterward  a  light  was  seen  crossing  the  river,  the  splash 
of  paddles  was  heard,  and  four  or  five  well-known  Indians, 
all  chiefs  of  rank,  came  up  the  walk  to  the  palisades,  with 
light-wood  brands  and  weapons  in  their  hands,  asking  imme 
diate  entrance.  "  Bald-Eagle  come,"  said  the  principle  speaker. 


388          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

"  Bring  heap  news,  let  in  quick,  I  tell  you,  not  very  much  time 
to  lose." 

The  gates  were  thrown  open  quickly,  and  certainly  there 
stood  the  Bald-Eagle,  and  in  very  different  plight  from  that  in 
which  he  had  set  forth.  He  was  unarmed  all  but  his  knife, 
and  the  lock  and  barrel  of  his  broken  carbine.  His  hair  was 
clotted  with  blood  which  had  flowed  from  two  or  three  gashes 
in  his  head,  and  blood  was  oozing  from  two  or  three  rents  in 
his  buckskin  hunting-shirt ;  he  looked  fagged,  too,  and  way 
worn,  but  he  did  not  seem  broken  or  disheartened.  His  story 
was  brief,  but  alarming.  Returning  from  a  successful  hunt 
down  the  north  shores  of  the  lake,  which  he  had  coasted  so 
far  down  as  to  where  Sarnia  now  stands  at  the  commencement 
of  the  river  St.  Clair,  when  within  fifteen  miles  of  home,  load 
ed  with  peltry,  he  had  been  surprised,  when  expecting  nothing 
less,  by  a  party  of  Ojibwas,  out  upon  a  war-path,  as  he  knew 
from  their  being  in  their  war-paint,  and  was  taken  without  re 
sistance,  for  to  resist  such  numbers  would  have  been  in  vain, 
since  they  numbered,  he  said,  no  less  than  thirty  war-canoes, 
with  not  less  than  eight  or  ten  warriors  to  each,  and  he  esti 
mated  their  force  at  not  much  less  than  three  hundred  men, 
well-armed,  at  least  two  thirds  of  them  carrying  muskets  of 
English  manufacture.  Their  very  numbers,  he  added,  had 
rendered  them  careless,  and  he  had  contrived  to  make  his 
escape,  though  not  without  a  sharp  struggle  with  an  out-lying 
party,  and  had  come  on  with  all  speed  to  warn  the  good  fathers 
of  the  coining  peril,  and  to  bring  them  his  arm  to  aid  in  the 
strife.  The  enemy  would  be  upon  them,  he  added,  early  in 
the  morning,  and  he  advised  the  mustering  of  the  whole  tribe 
within  the  fort,  where  he  was  confident  that  they  could  easily 
repulse  the  enemy,  and  hold  them  at  bay  until  such  time  as 
cold  arid  want  should  compel  them  to  decamp.  He  further 
recommended  the  sending  out  of  the  sacramental-plate  under 


BALD-EAGLE'S  TALE.  389 

the  care  of  some  trusty  person,  who  should  bury  it  on  some 
of  the  islands,  and  conceal  himself  anywhere  he  best  might 
on  the  northwestern  shore,  or  up  the  river  Severn,  as  it  was 
certain  that  the  Ojibwas  would  trust  themselves  no  farther  to 
the  northward  at  this  season,  and  as  they  were  only  actuated 
in  their  attack  by  the  desire  of  gaining  that  rich  booty. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE    MASSACRE. 

WHILE  the  Bald-Eagle  was  speaking,  Father  Borromee  never 
withdrew  his  searching  eyes  for  one  instant  from  his  face,  and 
when  he  had  ended  he  subjected  him  to  a  close  cross-exami 
nation,  for  he  very  grievously  suspected  him,  but  he  succeeded 
in  eliciting  nothing,  and  it  was  not  to  be  doubted  that  an  ene 
my  was  at  hand,  since  he  could  have  no  possible  object  in  the 
invention  of  a  falsehood  which  must  be  discovered  within  a 
few  hours.  By  this  time,  the  whole  tribe  of  the  Iroquois  were 
at  the  gates  imploring  admittance  for  themselves,  their  chil 
dren,  their  wives,  and  their  baggage,  and  as  the  good  faith  of 
the  tribe  in  general  was  not  to  be  doubted  any  more  than  the  fact 
that  they  were  engaged  in  deadly  hostilities  with  the  Ojibwas, 
they  were  of  course  instantly  admitted,  the  women  and  chil 
dren  as  guests,  and  in  some  degree  as  hostages,  the  men  as 
trusty  and  valorous  allies. 

The  father  Borromee  took  advantage  of  this  diversion  to 
dismiss  the  chiefs  under  the  care  of  the  refectioner  and  the 
brother  who  acted  as  chirurgeon,  desiring  the  latter  in  the  Iro 
quois  tongue  to  attend  carefully  to  the  hurts  of  the  Bald-Eagle, 
and  adding  a  few  words  in  Spanish  directing  him  to  delay  his 


390  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

operations  as  much  as  possible,  and  by  no  means  to  permit 
him  to  get  abroad  within  an  hour.  When  they  were  once 
gone  he  proceeded  to  take  counsel  with  the  president,  and 
though  he  did  not  hesitate  to  express  his  belief  that  the  Bald- 
Eagle  was  a  traitor,  and  in  collusion  with  the  enemy,  and  that 
the  advice  given  was  for  his  own  advantage,  he  still  believed 
it  the  best  to-  be  taken.  "  Doubtless,  he  expected,"  the  Jesuit 
said,  "  to  be  employed  himself  in  the  matter,  in  which  case  he 
would  have  at  once  given  the  spoil  up  to  the  Ojibwas,  and 
after  disclosing  to  them  our  line  of  defence,  betrayed  us  by 
some  cunning  treason.  But  we  will  frustrate  him,"  he  added. 
"  If  you  will  suffer  me  to  go  forth,  father,  on  this  mission,  1 
will  take  with  me  only  the  '  Little  Bear,'  whom  I  know  for  a 
trusty  and  faithful  Indian,  and  the  girl  Ahsahgunushk  Numa- 
mahtahseng,  who  can  converse  with  me  in  Italian,  and  by 
whom  I  may  communicate  with  the  Ojibwas  if  need  be.  The 
plate  and  treasures  I  will  bury  below  the  water-mark  on  the 
east  end  of  the  giant's  grave,  on  a  due  east  line  from  the  largest 
pine  I  can  find,  and  a  white  stone  which  I  will  set  up  on  the 
shore.  So  shall  you  find  it  if  aught  of  evil  befall  me.  If  God 
grant  me  to  return  in  life,  I  will  enter  by  the  secret  passage 
into  the  stone-tower  to-morrow  night  at  half  an  hour  before 
moon-rise  ;  so  that  three  or  four  of  the  trustiest  of  the  brothers 
to  hold  the  (Joor  in  hand  and  admit  me  at  the  signal.  For  the 
rest,  resist  stoutly,  put  no  trust  in  the  Bald-Eagle,  let  him  not 
stir  a  yard  without  one  of  the  brethren  at  his  elbow,  and  shoot 
him  dead  on  the  instant  if  he  attempt  to  communicate  with  the 
enemy,  or  do  aught  savoring  in  the  least  of  treason.  By  God's 
grace,  we  will  frustrate  this  knave's  treachery,  until  by  means 
of  the  maiden  we  may  make  firm  peace  with  the  enemy, 
which  I  by  no  means  despair  of.  Now  give  me  thy  blessing, 
father,  and  speed  me  on  my  way,  for  by  Heaven's  aid,  right 
sure  am  I  that  this  will  be  the  better  way." 


LEAVING    THE    FORT.  391 

Some  little  opposition  was  made,  on  the  pretended  score  of 
unwillingness  to  expose  so  eminent  and  valuable  a  life  to  such 
cruel  risk,  but  in  reality,  because,  knowing  him  to  be  the  best, 
the  bravest,  and  the  ablest  leader  of  the  whole  order,  they 
wanted  his  presence  within  so  sorely  that  they  held  themselves 
barely  able  to  dispense  with  it.  His  urgency,  however,  and 
the  necessity  of  the  case  prevailed,  and  he  received  the  per 
mission  he  required,  and  the  persons  he  had  selected  as  his 
companions.  To  the  girl  alone  was  the  object  of  their  expe 
dition  intrusted,  and  she  was  appointed  the  bearer,  with  the 
Jesuit's  aid,  of  the  coffer  in  which  the  relics  and  plate  of  the 
order  were  secured.  The  young  chief  was  content  to  follow 
a  leader  whom  he  loved  and  revered  so  deeply  as  the  father 
Borromee,  in  blind  obedience  to  his  will,  without  inquiring 
wherefore  or  whither,  and  had  he  doubted,  the  present  which 
he  received  before  setting  forth  of  a  beautifully-finished  Span 
ish-barrelled  carabine,  with  horn  and  pouch  to  correspond,  and 
a  fine  German  hunting-knife  with  a  buck-horn  hilt,  would  have 
hired  him  to  follow  any  leader  even  to  the  gates  of  the  tomb. 

The  Jesuit  himself  laid  aside  his  robes,  and  appeared  clad 
from  head  to  foot  in  a  suit  of  fine  buckskin  accurately  fitting 
his  fine  form,  and  displaying  a  port  and  stature  certainly  better 
fitted  for  a  warrior  than  for  a  monk,  to  its  best  advantage.  His 
arms  were  superb,  .and  by  the  way  he  handled  them  it  was 
clear  that  he  well  knew  how  to  use  them.  They  consisted  of 
a  long  Spanish-barrelled  gun,  with  the  newly-invented  wheel- 
lock,  two  brace  of  ten-inch  German' pistols,  a  curved  yataghan 
of  Damascus  steel  swinging  on  his  left  thigh,  a  stout  Toledo 
dagger  in  his  belt,  and  an  axe  swung  by  the  belt  which  sup 
ported  the  horn  and  bullet-pouch  across  his  shoulders.  Even 
Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng,  proud  to  be  selected  from 
all  her  tribe  for  such  a  duty,  carried  her  bow  and  quiver,  and 
thus  equipped,  bearing  the  heavy  coffer  between  them,  they 


392  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUM AMAHTAHSENG. 

issued  from  a  secret  wicket,  in  the  back  of  the  palisades, 
opening  upon  the  brook  and  ravine,  along  the  course  of  which 
they  crept  stealthily  to  its  outlet  into  the  river,  whither  the 
girl  soon  paddled  down  a  canoe  from  the  wharf,  unseen  and 
unsuspected,  when  they  all  embarked  and  dropped  so  silently 
down  the  current,  that  they  had  been  gone  an  hour  before  their 
departure  was  discovered  by  any  one,  and  then  it  was  only  de 
tected  on  the  Bald-Eagle's  coming  forth  from  the  refectory, 
when  he  perceived  the  absence  of  the  Little-Bear,  and  soon 
after  found  that  the  father  Borromee  was  not  to  be  seen  that 
evening,  whence  he  at  once  suspected  what  had  occurred, 
though  even  then  he  overlooked  the  departure  of  the  Reed- 
shaken-by-the-wind,  whom  he  believed  to  be  somewhere  with 
in  the  buildings  of  the  Mission.  His  first  impulse  was  to 
leave  the  fort  and  follow  on  their  trail,  but  egress  being  per 
emptorily  refused  to  him,  he  saw  at  once  that  he  was  himself 
suspected,  and  resigned  himself  with  Indian  stoicism  to 
what  he  knew  must  be,  exulting  inwardly  in  the  sure  triumph 
of  his  iniquitous  and  treasonable  schemes. 

Before  they  had  been  missed  within  the  fort,  their  canoe 
had  passed  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  entered  the  labyrinth  of 
shoals  and  shallows,  overgrown  with  a  luxuriant  crop  of  wild- 
rice,  rising  to  a  height  of  at  least  six  feet  above  the  surface, 
and  intersected  with  many  narrow  navigable  channels,  which, 
are  one  of  the  peculiar  features  of  the  streams  which  debouch 
into  the  lower  end  of  the  great  Georgian  bay.  Here  their 
peril  may  be  said  to  have  commenced  fairly,  for  from  this 
point  onward  they  might  at  any  moment  fall  upon  the  fleet  of 
their  enemies,  but  they  had  concluded,  and  as  it  fell  out,  con 
cluded  wisely,  that  the  Ojibwas  being  in  such  overwhelming 
force,  would  scarcely  hurry  or  attempt  any  forced  surprise, 
when  they  were  assured,  as  the  Jesuit  never  doubted  that  they 
were  assured,  of  treacherous  aid  from  within  the  fort.  He 


THE    WATCH-FIRES.  393 

judged,  therefore,  that  they  would  encamp  for  the  night,  on 
the  western  side  of  some  of  the  many  islets  where  their  fires 
would  not  be  visible  at  the  mouth  of  the  Wye.  He  caused  his 
boat  on  this  principle  to  be  kept  away  into  a  deep  bight  of  the 
mainland  on  the  left  of  the  mouth  of  the  river  as  you  come 
down,  and  running  close  along  the  coast  within  the  shadows 
of  shore,  until  he  reached  and  doubled  a  bold  headland  open 
ing  a  deep  bay  indenting  the  land  to  the  southward,  from 
which  point  of  view  he  soon  discovered  no  less  than  five 
watch-fires,  burning  on  the  southwestern  point  of  what  is  now 
known  as  Present  island,  and  by  the  aid  of  a  small  perspective- 
glass,  which  he  had  brought  with  him,  easily  discerned  the  fig 
ures  of  many  savages  moving  and  sitting  around  the  blaze,  and 
interposing  their  dusky  forms  between  his  eye  and  the  light. 

His  plan  was  now  taken  on  the  instant,  or  rather  was  de 
cided,  for  it  was  that  on  which  he  had  from  the  first  deter 
mined  ;  paddling  as  rapidly  as  he  could  into  the  deep  bay,  he 
soon  reached  the  rice-swamp  which  filled  the  bottom  along  the 
shores,  and  after  a  little  examination,  struck  the  mouth  of  a 
deep,  narrow,  sluggish  stream  which  fell  into  it ;  up  this  with 
some  labor  they  forced  the  canoe,  until  they  reached  the  land, 
which  was  overspread  with  a  gigantic  forest  of  tall  hemlocks, 
mingled  with  deciduous  trees,  and  traversed  by  an  Indian  trace, 
for  there  was  a  portage  hence  to  the  neighboring  bay,  now  the 
harbor  of  Penetanguishine,  by  which  several  miles  of  distance 
can  be  saved  in  rounding  the  northern  headland  and  working 
their  way  southwardly.  Here  the  canoe  was  taken  out  of 
water,  and  the  Indian  balancing  it  easily  upon  his  shoulder, 
walked  off  through  the  woods  at  his  usual  swinging  trot,  fol 
lowed  by  the  priest,  who,  besides  being  encumbered  with  his 
own  arms  and  those  of  the  Indian,  was  almost  overloaded  with 
the  ponderous  coffer,  and  by  the  girl,  who  bore  the  paddles,  a 
shovel  or  two  which  had  been  brought  along  in  the  canoe. 

17* 


394          AHSAHGUNUSHK  NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

Abour  half  an  hour's  walking  brought  them  to  the  farther  end 
of  the  portage,  upon  the  narrow  and  limpid  basin  of  Penetan- 
guishine,  now  the  site  of  a  flourishing  village,  with  British 
barracks  and  a  naval  station,  but  then  the  desolate  and  unfre 
quented  wilderness. 

Here  they  lighted  a  small  fire,  in  a  deep  hollow,  surrounded 
with  underwood,  which  sheltered  them  entirely  from  view,  and 
eating  a  scanty  meal  of  cooked  provisions  which  they  had 
brought  along  with  them,  wrapped  themselves  in  their  blankets 
and  slept,  or  seemed  to  sleep  through  the  night  unmolested. 
But  the  Jesuit  slept  not,  but  lay  pondering  on  the  perils  of  his 
comrades,  now  almost  fearing  that  his  advice  had  not  been  the 
wisest,  and  that  their  true  policy  would  have  been  to  have  de 
serted  the  fort  for  the  moment  after  caching  their  valuables,  and 
to  have  run  up  northwardly  along  the  shores,  where  the  Ojib- 
was  would  not  dare  to  follow  them.  It  was,  however,  obvi 
ously  too  late  to  repent,  and  though  he  could  not  sleep,  he  lay 
and  rested  himself  until  the  stars  paled  in  the  sky  to  the  east 
ward,  and  a  faint  dappling  of  the  heavens  announced  the  com 
ing  of  another  day.  Then  he  arose,  and  bidding  his  compan 
ions  prepare  the  cjanoe  and  get  everything  aboard,  while  he 
himself  hurried  back  to  the  other  end  of  the  portage  to  take  one 
iinal  observation  of  the  Indians,  and  when  there  he  perceived 
them,  as  he  expected,  with  their  barks  already  afloat  and  steer 
ing  directly  across  the  bay  for  the  embouchure  of  the  Wye,  a 
fact  which  confirmed  him  fully  of  the  treason  of  the  Bald- 
Eagle,  since  but  for  his  information,  it  was  impossible  that  the 
strange  savages  could  have  so  speedily  discovered  the  mouth 
of  the  river  they  sought.  Filled  with  grievous  and  sad  fore 
bodings  he  now  hastened  back  to  his  companions,  and  telling 
them  nothing  of  his  fears,  for  he  was  resolved  at  all  risks  after 
burying  the  treasure  to  return  to  his  brethren,  and  if  necessary 
die  with  them,  and  feared  some  opposition  from  the  Little-Bear, 


SOUNDS    OF    CONFLICT.  395 

entered  the  birch  canoe,  steered  down  the  placid  inlet  of  Pene- 
etanguishine,  and  thence  re-entering  the  main  waters  of  the 
great  Georgian  bay,  laid  her  course  to  the  south-westward  for 
the  truncated  cone,  shaped  much  like  a  steeple-crowned  hat, 
of  the  puritanic  form,  which  was  then  and  is  to  this  day  known 
as  the  Giant's  Grave.  This  conspicuous  islet  they  reached  long 
before  noon,  and  mooring  the  canoe  to  a  paddle  driven  into  the 
extremity  of  a  gravelly  shoal  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  island, 
they  laid  aside  their  arms,  and  taking  the  shovels,  the  coffer, 
and  a  white  bowlder-stone  which  they  had  brought  with  them 
from  the  last  landing-place,  and  ascertaining  the  exact  place 
designated  by  the  Jesuit,  soon  effected  the  concealment  of  the 
treasure,  beneath  the  gravel  and  beneath  the  water  itself,  and 
that  done,  carefully  and  effectually  removing  all  traces  of  their 
temporary  visit  to  the  island  mound,  they  betook  themselves 
homeward  by  the  same  way  that  they  had  come,  reached  the 
shelter  of  the  woods  of  Penetanguishine  at  an  early  hour  of 
the  afternoon,  and  there  reposed  and  finished  their  small  stock 
of  provisions,  until  the  gathering  gloom  of  evening  should  ren 
der  it  safe  for  them  to  return  safely  to  the  camp,  and  seek  to 
re-enter  it.  In  those  short  days  evening  *soon  came,  and  it 
had  hardly  spread  its  dark  mantl-e  over  the  earth,  calling  the 
nocturnal  tribes  of  birds  and  insects  into  life  and  motion,  before 
they  were  again  upon  the  waters,  steering  toward  the  well- 
known  mouth  of  the  familiar  river. 

One  thing,  however,  had  greatly  shaken  the  confidence  of  the 
priest ;  for  some  hours  of  the  time  during  which  they  had  lain 
perdu  in  the  woods  nigh  to  Penetanguishine,  the  roar  of  the 
artillery  from  the  fort  had  been  almost  continuous,  telling  of  a 
sharp  attack  and  stout  resistance,  arid  at  times  even  the  rolling 
rattle  of  the  volleyed  musketry  had  been  distinctly  audible. 
On  a  sudden  the  roar  and  rattle  had  sunk  at  once,  and  all  was 
hushed  and  still  —  alas,  his  foreboding  heart!  —  was  hushed 


396  AHSAHGUNUSHK    XUMAMAHTAHSENO. 

and  still  for  ever  —  all  save  the  groans  of  agony,  all  save  the 
yells  of  the  frantic  torturers,  all  save  the  booming  of  the  terri 
ble  death-drums,  and  the  appalling  cadences  of  the  scalp-whoop 
and  the  death-halloo.  By  the  time  the  moon  was  within  a 
little  space  of  rising,  the  priest  had  landed  on  the  northern 
headland  of  the  Wye,  obedient  to  his  promise,  and  after  dis 
missing  the  Indian,  and  bidding  him  look  to  his  own  safety  for 
he  feared  the  worst  was  already  over,  he  took  his  way  accom 
panied  by  the  girl,  who  refused  to  leave  him,  maintaining  that 
she  was  in  no  danger  from  her  own  tribesmen,  to  the  familiar 
fort  through  the  lone  woodlands. 

When  he  reached  the  spot,  his  worst  fears  were  indeed  re 
alized.  The  mouth  of  the  secret  passage  was  forced  violently 
open,  and  it  was  evident  that  through  it,  detected  of  course  by 
the  Bald-Eagle  before  his  departure,  the  entrance  of  the  ene 
mies  had  been  affected.  A  few  steps  more  brought  him  to  a 
full  view  of  the  hideous  scene  of  massacre  and  torture,  but  the 
last  act  save  one  of  the  dread  tragedy  was  completed.  The 
last  save  one  of  the  brethren  had  sealed  the  testimony  of  his 
faith  with  his  innocent  and  pious  blood  ;  a  scathed  pile  and  a 
heap  of  ashes,  interspersed  with  a  few  human  bones,  were  the 
sole  monuments  of  their  dreadful  doom  ;  and  long  stood  there 
erect  and  grisly,  mute  evidences  of  the  spot  where  the  Jesuits 
endured  all  the  protracted  horrors  of  the  Indian  torture,  and 
died  invoking  not  vengeance,  but  peace  and  pardon  on  their 
persecutors. 

"  Domine  nunc  dimittis,"  groaned  the  Jesuit,  as  he  looked 
on  the  dreadful  sight.  "  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  to 
depart  in  peace  ;"  and  with  a  loud,  clear  voice  he  exclaimed, 
"  Fratres  benedicite,"  his  wonted  salutation  to  his  tribes-men, 
and  strode  forward  with  uplifted  arms  from  the  shadows  of  the 
forest  into  the  open  area,  which  was  still  lighted  by  the  em 
bers  of  the  death-fires,  around  which  the  Indians  were  sitting, 


THE    TORTURE.  397 

wearied  and  worn  out  with  the  exhaustion  of  the  past  excite 
ment.  At  this  strange  apparition  many  of  them  started  to  their 
feet  in  wonder  nigh  akin  to  fear.  But  the  Bald-Eagle  recog 
nised  him  at  once,  and  leaping  forward  with  a  wild  whoop  of 
triumph,  seized  him  unresisting  by  the  collar  and  dragged  him 
rudely  forward.  "This  is  the  chief,"  he  cried,  "this  is 
the  chief-medicine — the  evil-spirit  of  them  all.  Away  with 
him,  brothers,  to  the  stake.  He  is  the  seducer,  too,  of  your 
tribeswoman,  Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng.  To  the  stake 
with  him." 

But  as  he  spoke  the  girl  herself  glided  forward  and  stood  at 
his  elbow. 

"  It  is  a  lie,"  she  said.  "  It  is  a  lie  of  the  Iroquois.  The 
daughter  of  Chingwauk,  the  sister  of  Chingwaukonce,  is  no 
castaway  —  never  seduced.  It  is  a  lie,  cowardly  Huron  Buz 
zard,  Ahsahgunushk  Numamahtahseng  is  white  as  the  snow  in 
winter.  That  for  your  lie,  foul  traitor  Huron !"  and  as  she 
spoke,  she  plunged  a  small  knife  at  a  single  blow  into  the  heart 
of  the  traitor,  that  he  dropped  dead  at  her  feet  without  a  word 
or  sign.  Then  she  flung  the  bloody  knife  into  the  circle,  and 
cried  in  her  clear  silver  tones.  "  Blood  for  the  honor  of  the 
Ojibwa  girl.  Death  to  the  liar  and  the  traitor.  Father,  broth 
er,  has  the  Reed-shaken-by-the-wind  done  well  ?" 

A  loud  acclamation  carried  an  assent  to  her  words,  and  she 
was  instantly  greeted  by  the  kinsmen,  and  installed  in  her  lost 
station,  as  the  daughter  of  the  great  chief,  worthy  of  all  dis 
tinction  and  respect ;  but  no  prayers,  no  arguments,  no  entreat 
ies  of  hers  could  win  the  pardon  of  the  Jesuit.  He  was  tor 
tured  so  felly,  that  the  very  manner  of  his  death  has  come 
down  to  these  days  by  direct  oral  tradition  of  the  perpetrators. 
Necklaces  of  red-hot  axe-heads  were  hung  about  his  neck,  gir 
dles  about  his  loins,  till  when  his  body  was  literally  well  nigh 
burnt  in  twain,  his  living  heart  was  ripped  out  of  his  bosom, 


398  AHSAHGUNUSHK    NUMAMAHTAHSENG. 

and  flung  palpitating  in  his  face,  while  his  agonized  lips  stijl 
quivered  with  the  last  notes  of  the  "  De  Profundis  clamavi." 
He  died  in  his  middle  age,  a  true  and  undaunted  soldier  of  the 
church  ;  as  he  had  battled  in  his  youth  true  and  undaunted 
soldier  of  his  king.  His  race  was  run,  his  duty  done.  Honor 
to  his  memory,  peace  to  his  ashes ! 

From  that  day  never  more  did  the  Reed-shaken-by-the-wind 
lift  her  gentle  head,  but  faded  like  a  flower  withered  by  the 
fierce  noonday  sun.  Like  lago,  word  she  never  spoke  more, 
but  wandered  mute  and  almost  bereaved  of  reason  around  the 
pile  at  which  her  teacher,  her  friend,  and  her  savior,  had  died 
in  anguish  intolerable,  yet  endured  with  the  triumphant  faith 
and  fortitude  of  a  Christian  martyr,  and  a  French  cavalier,  until 
death  relieved,  her,  too,  of  the  burthen  and  the  weariness  of  too 
long  life. 

On  the  following  day  the  Little-Bear  was  captured  and  slain, 
and  with  him  perished  the  secret  of  the  concealed  treasures. 
They  are  sought  for  often  by  both  the  Indians  and  the  whites, 
but  never  have  been  found,  nor  is  it  probable  ever  will  be,  since 
the  sole  record  of  them  exists  in  this  veracious  legend,  and 
even  so  the  bowlder  has  been  swept  away,  the  pine-tree  has 
perished  with  age,  and  the  place  of  the  interment  may  be  held 
lost  for  ever. 

Before  the  springtime  returned  with  its  flowers,  the  "  Reed- 
shaken-by-the-wind"  slept  by  the  banks  of  that  fair  river  which 
had  so  long  afforded  her  a  happy  home  among  the  good  French 
Jesuits.  Myself,  I  have  sat  oftentimes  on  the  low  mound 
which  marks  her  resting-place,  and  have  fancied  as  I  heard 
the  wild  wind  mournfully  rustling  through  the  wild-rice  beds, 
that  it  murmured  the  soft  accents  of  her  name  —  Ahsahgunushk 
Numamahtahseng. 

The  race  of  the  Iroquois  has  vanished  from  the  earth,  their 
memory  preserved  alone  by  the  pits  which  contain  their  bones 


THE    RECORD. 

scattered  through  the  wild  woods.  Their  language  is  no  more 
heard  in  their  old  places,  for  the  Ojibwas  dwell  where  they 
dwelt  of  yore,  and  all  that  remains  to  give  evidence  concerning 
the  fall  of  the  old  French  fort,  is  this  humble  record,  and  the 
holy  Christian  creed  which  they  professed,  and  which  in  after- 
days  their  very  murderers  adopted.  Magna  est  veritas  et 
pr&valebit. 

The  life  of  man  is  grass,  and  is  cut  down  in  a  day  and  per- 
isheth  before  the  evening  star ;  the  Truth  of  God  is  eternal, 
and  endureth  for  ever  and  ever. 


THE     END 


J.  S.  REDFIELD, 

110  AND  112  KASSAU  STREET,  XE\V  YORk, 

HAS  JUST  PUBLISHED : 


EPISODES  OF  INSECT  LIFE. 

By  ACHETA  DOMESTICA.  In  Three  Series  :  I.  Insects  of  Spring. — 
II.  Insects  of  Summer. —  III.  Insects  of  Autumn.  Beautifully 
illustrated.  Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  gilt,  price  $2.00  each.  The  same 
beautifully  colored  after  nature,  extra  gilt,  $4.00  each. 

"  A  book  elegant  enough  for  the  centre  table,  witty  enough  for  after  dinner,  and  wi?e 
enough  for  the  study  and  the  school-room.  One  of  the  beautiful  lessons  of  this  work  ia 
the  kindly  view  it  takes  of  nature.  Nothing  is  made  in  vain  not  only,  but  nothing  is 
made  ugly  or  repulsive.  A  charm  is  thrown  around  every  object,  and  life  suffused 
through  all.  suggestive  of  the  Creator's  goodness  and  wisdom." — ,V.  Y.  Evangelist. 

"  Moths,  glow~worms,  lady-birds,  May-flies,  bees,  and  a  variety  of  other  inhabitants  of 
the  insect  world,  are  descanted  upon  in  a  pleasing  style,  combining  scientific  information 
with  romance,  in  a  manner  peculiarly  attractive." — Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  The  book  includes  solid  instruction  as  well  as  genial  and  captivating  mirth.  The 
scientific  knowledge  of  the  writer  ia  thoroughly  reliable."— Examiner, 


MEN  AND  WOMEN  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY. 

By  ARSENE  HOUSSATE,  with  beautifully  Engraved  Portraits  of 
Louis  XV.,  and  Madame  de  Pompadour.  Two  volume  12mo. 
450  pages  each,  extra  superfine  paper,  price  $2.50. 

CONTENTS. — Dufresny,  Fontenelle,  Marivaux,  Piron,  The  Abbe"  Prevost,  Gentil-Bcrnard, 
Florian,  Boufflers,  Diderot,  Gretry,  Riverol,  Louis  XV.,  Greuze,  Boucher,  The  Van- 
loos,  Lantara,  Watteau,  La  Motte,  Dehle,  Abbe  Trublet,  Buffon,  Dorat,  Cardinal  de 
Bernis,  Crebillon  the  Gay,  Marie  Antoinette,  Made,  de  Pompadour,  Vade,  Mile.  Ca- 
margo,  Mile.  Clairon,  Mad.  de  la  Popeliniere,  Sophie  Arnould,  Cre"billon  the  Tragic, 
Mile.  Guimard,  Three  Pages  in  the  Life  of  Dancourt,  A  Promenade  in  the  Palais-Royal, 
the  Chevalier  de  la  Clos. 

"A  more  fascinating  book  than  this  rarely  issues  from  the  teeming  pre?s.  Fascina 
ting  in  its  subject ;  fascinating  in  its  style :  fascinating  in  its  power  to  lead  the  render  into 
castle-building  of  the  most  gorgeous  nnd  bewitching  description." — Courier  ff  Enquirer. 
"This  13  a  most  welcome  book,  full  of  information  and  amusement,  in  the  form  of 
memoirs,  comments,  and  anecdotes.  It  has  the  style  of  light  literature,  with  the  use 
fulness  if  the  gravest  It  should  be  in  every  library,  and  the  hands  of  every  reader." 
Boston  Commonwealth. 

"  A  BOOK  OF  BOOKS. — Two  deliciously  spicy  volumes,  that  are  a  perfect  bonne  buucfu 
for  TO  epicure  in  reading.'' — Home  Journal. 


REDFIELD'S  NEW  ANTD  POPULAR  PUBLICATIONS. 


PHILOSOPHERS  AM)  ACTRESSES. 

By  ARSENE  HOUSSAYK.     With   beautifully-engraved  Portraits  ul 
Voltaire  and  Mad.  Parabere.     Two  vols.",  12mo,  price  $2.50. 

"We  have  here  the  most  charming:  book  we  have  read  these  many  days,— so 
powerful  in  its  fascination  that  we  have  beni  held  for  hours  from  our  Imperious  Iftbort, 
or  needful  slumbers,  by  the  entrancing  influence  of  its  pages.  One  of  the  most  desira 
ble  fruits  of  the  prolific  field  of  literature  of  the  present  season." — Poland  Eclectic. 

"  Two  brilliant  and  fascinating — we  had  almost  taad,  bewitching—  volumes,  combi 
ning  information  and  amusement,  the  lightest  gossip,  with  solid  and  serviceable  wis 
dom." —  Yankee  Blade. 

"It  is  a  most  admirable  book,  full  of  originality,  wit,  information  and  philosophy. 
Indeed,  the  vividness  of  the  book  is  extraordinary.  The  scenes  and  descriptions  are 
absolutely  life-like." — Southern  Literary  Gazette,. 

"The  works  of  the  present  writer  are  the  only  ones  the  spirit  of  whree  rhetoric  does 
justice  to  those  times,  and  in  fascination  of  description  and  stylo  equal  the  fascinations 
they  descant  upon." — New  Orleans  Commercial  Bulletin. 

"  The  author  is  a  brilliant  writer,  and  serves  up  his  sketches  in  a  sparkling  manner." 
Christian  Freeman. 


ANCIENT  EGYPT  UNDER  THE  PHARAOHS. 
By  JOHN  KENDRICK,  M.  A.     In  2  vols.,  12rao,  price  $2.50. 

"No  work  has  heretofore  appeared  suited  to  the  wants  of  the  historical  student, 
which  combined  the  labors  of  artists,  travellers,  interpreters  and  critics,  during  the 
periods  from  the  earliest  records  of  the  monarchy  to  its  final  absorption  in  the  empire 
of  Alexander.  This  work  supplies  this  deficiency." — Olive  Branch. 

"Not  only  the  geography  and  political  history  of  Egypt  under  the  Pharaohs  are 
given,  but  we  are  furnished  with  a  minute  account  of  the  domestic  manners  and  cus 
toms  of  the  inhabitants,  their  language,  laws,  science,  religion,  agriculture,  navigation 
and  commerce.1' — Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  These  volumes  present  a  comprehensive  view  of  the  results  of  the  combined  labors 
of  travellers,  artists,  and  scientific  explorers,  which  have  effected  so  much  during  the 
present  century  toward  the  development  of  Egyptian  archaeology  and  history." — Jour 
nal  of  Commerce. 

"  The  descriptions  are  very  vivid  and  one  wanders,  delighted  with  the  author,  through 
the  land  of  Egypt,  gathering  at  every  step,  new  phases  of  her  wondrous  history,  and 
ends  with  a  more  intelligent  knowledge  than  be  ever  before  had,  of  the  land  of  the 
Pharaohs." — American  Spectator. 


COMPARATIVE  PHYSIOGNOMY; 

Or  Resemblances  between  Men  and  Animals.  By  J.  W.  REDFIELD> 
M.  D.  In  one  vol.,  8vo,  with  several  hundred  illustrations. 
price,  $2.00. 

''Dr.  Redfield  has  produced  a  very  curious,  amusing,  and  instructive  book,  curious 
in  its  originality  and  illustrations,  amusing  in  the  comparisons  and  analyses,  and  in 
structive  because  it  contains  very  much  useful  information  on  a  too  much  neglected 
subject.  It  will  be  eagerly  read  and  quickly  appreciated." — National  jEgis. 

"The  whole  work  exhibits  a  good  deal  of  scientific  research,  intelligent  observation, 
and  ingenuity."—  Daily  Union. 

"  Highly  entertaining  even  to  those  who  have  little  time  to  study  the  science." — 
Detroit  Daily  Advertiser. 

'•  This  is  a  remarkable  volume  and  will  be  read  by  two  classes,  those  who  study  for 
information,  and  those  who  read  lor  amusement.  For  its  originality  and  entertaining 
character,  we  commend  it  to  our  readers." — Albany  Express. 

"  It  is  overflowing  with  wit,  humor,  and  originality,  and  profusely  illustrated.  The 
whole  work  is  distinguished  by  vast  research  and  knowledge." — Knickerbocker. 

"The  plan  is  a  novel  one ;  the  proofs  striking,  and  must  challenge  the  attention  of  the 
curious." — Daily  Advertiser. 


REDFIELDS  NEW  AND  POPULAR  PUBLICATIONS. 


POETICAL   WORKS  OF  FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK. 

New  and  only  Complete  Edition,  containing  several  New  Poems, 
together  with  many  now  first  collected.  One  vol.,  12mo.,  price 
one  dollar. 

"Halleck  is  one  of  the  brightest  stars  in  our  American  literature,  and  his  name  is 
l:ke  a  household  word  wherever  the  English  language  is  spoken." — Albany  Express. 

"There  are  few  poems  to  lie  frmnd^  in  any  language,  thnt  surpass,  in  beauty  of 
thought  and  structure,  some  of  these."— Boston  Commonwealth. 

"  To  the  numerous  admirers  of  Mr.  Halleck,  this  will  be  a  welcome  book ;  for  it  is  a 
characteristic  desire  in  human  nature  to  have  the  productions  of  our  favorite  authors 
in  an  elegant  and  substantial  form." — Christian  Freeman, 

"  Mr.  Halleck  never  appeared  in  a  better  dress,  and  few  poets  ever  deserved  a  better 
one." — Christian  Intelligencer. 


THE  STUDY  OF  WORDS. 
By  Archdeacon  R.  C.  TRENCH.     One  vol.,  12mo.,  price  75  cts. 

"  He  discourses  in  a  truly  learned  and  lively  manner  upon  the  original  unity  of  lan 
guage,  and  the  origin,  derivation,  and  history  of  words,  with  their  morality  and  sep 
arate  spheres  of  meaning." — Evening  p-ft 

"  This  is  a  noble  tribute  to  the  diviw  faculty  of  speech.  Popularly  written,  for  use 
as  lectures,  exact  in  its  learning,  and  poetic  in  its  vision,  it  is  a  book  at  once  for  the 
scholar  and  the  general  reader."— New  York  Evangelist. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  most  striking  and  original  publications  of  the  day,  with  nothing  of 
hardness,  dullness,  or  dryness  about  it,  but  altogether  fresh,  lively,  and  entertaining." 
— Boston  Evening  Traveller. 


BRONCHITIS,  AND  KINDRED  DISEASES. 

In  language  adapted  to  common  readers.     By  W.  W.  HALL,  M.  D. 

One  vol.,  12  mo,  price  $1.00. 

"  It  is  written  in  a  plain,  direct,  common-sense  style,  and  is  free  from  the  quackery 
which  marks  many  of  the  popular  medical  books  of  the  day.  It  will  prove  useful  to 
those  who  need  it'"—  Central  Ch.  Herald. 

"  Those  who  are  clergymen,  or  who  are  preparing  for  the  sacred  calling,  and  public 
speakers  generally,  should  not  fail  of  securing  this  work." — Ch.  Ambassador. 

"  It  is  full  of  hints  on  the  nature  of  the  vital  organs,  and  does  away  with  much  super 
stitious  dread  in  regard  to  consumption." — Greene  County  Whig. 

"This  work  gives  some  valuable  instruction  in  regard  to  fooi  and  hygienic  influ 
ences."—  Nashua  Oasis. 


KNIGHTS  OF  ENGLAND,  FRANCE,  AND  SCOTLAND. 
By  HENRY  WILLIAM  HERBERT.     One  vol.,  12mo.,  price  $1.25. 

"  They  are  partly  the  romance  of  history  and  partly  fiction,  forming,  when  blended, 
portniitures,  valuable  from  the  correct  drawing  of  the  times  they  illustrate,  and  interest- 
ing  from  their  romance." — Albany  Knickerbocker. 

"  Thr.-y  ore  spirit-stirring  productions,  which  will  be  read  and  admired  by  all  who 
are  plensed  with  historical  tales  written  in  a  vigorous,  bold,  and  dashing  style." — Boston 
Journal. 

"  These  legends  of  love  and  chivalry  contain  some  of  the  finest  tales  which  the 
graphic  and  powerful  peu  of  Herbert  has  yet  given  to  the  lighter  literature  of  the  day." 
-Detroit  Free  Tress. 


REDFIELD'S  NEW  AND  POPULAR  PUBLICATIONS 


LYRA,  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 
By  ALICE  CAREY.     In  one  volume,  12mo,  cloth,  price  75  cts. 

"Whether  poetry  be  defined  as  the  rhythmical  creation  of  beauty,  as  passion  or  elo 
quence  in  harmonious  numbers,  or  as  thought  and  feeling  manifested  by  processes  of 
the  imagination,  Alice  Carey  is  incontestably  and  incomparably  the  first  living  American 
poetess  — fresh,  indigenous,  national — rich  beyond  precedent  in  suitable  nnd  sensuous  im 
agery—of  the  finest  and  highest  qualities  of  feeling,  and  puch  powers  of  creation  as  the; 
Almighty  has  seen  fit  to  bestow  but  rarely  or  in  far-separated  countries." — Bosl.  Trans. 

"The  genuine  inspiration  of  poetic  feeling,  . . .  replete  with  tenderness  and  beauty, 
earnestness  and  truthful  simplicity,  and  all  the  attributes  of  a  powerful  imagination  and 
Vivid  fancy.  We  know  of  no  superior  to  Miss  Carey  among  the  female  authors  of  this 
country." — New  York  Journal  of  Commerce. 

"  Alice  Carey's  book  is  full  of  beautiful  thoughts;  there  is  draught  after  drausht  of, 
pure  pleasure  for  the  lover  of  eweet,  tender  fancies,  and  imagery  which  caplhates 
while  it  enforces  truth." — Neio  York  Courier  and  Inquirer. 

"  'Lyra  and  other  Poems,'  just  published  by  Redfield,  attracts  everywhere,  a  remark 
able  degree  of  attention.  A  dozen  of  the  leading  journals,  and  many  eminent  critics, 
have  pronounced  the  authoress  the  greatest  poetess  living." — New  York  Mirror. 


LILLIAN,  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 

By  WINTHROP  MACKWORTH  PRAED.     Now  first  Collected.     One 
Volume  I2mo.      Price  One  Dollar. 

"  A  timely  publication  is  this  volume.  A  more  charming  companion  (in  the  shape  of 
a  book)  can  scarcely  be  found  for  the  summer  holydays."— New  York  Tribune. 

"  They  are  amusing  sketches,  gay  and  sprightly  in  thoir  character,  exhibiting  great 
facility  of  composition^  and  considerable  powers  of  satire." — Hartford  Courant. 

"  There  is  a  brilliant  play  of  fancy  in  '  Lillian.'  and  a  moving  triidornep.s  in  '  Josephine.' 
for  which  it  would  be  hard  to  find  equals.  We  welcome,  therefore,  this  first  collected 
edition  of  his  work*." — Albany  Express. 

'•  As  a  writer  of  vers  de  soriete  he  is  pronounced  to  be  without  an  equal  among  Eng 
lish  authors." — Syracuse  Daily  Journal. 

"  The  author  of  this  volume  was  one  of  the  most  fluent  and  versatile  English  poets  that 
have  shone  in  the  literary  world  within  the  last  century.  His  versification  is  astonish- 
in  sly  easy  and  airy,  and  his  imagery  not  less  wonderfully  graceful  and  aerial." — Albany 
Stat.e  Register. 


THE  CAVALIERS  OF  ENGLAND; 

Or,  the  Times  of  the  Revolutions  of  1642  and  1688.     By  HENRY 
WILLIAM  HERBERT.     One  vol.,  12mo.,  price  $1.25. 

"  They  are  graphic  stories,  and  in  the  highest  degree  attractive  to  the  imagination  as 
well  as  instructive,  and  can  not  fail  to  be  popular." — Commercial. 

"  These  tales  are  written  in  the  popular  author's  best  style,  and  give  us  a  vivid  and 
thrilling  idea  of  the  custom.?  and  influences  of  the  chivalrous  ase." — Christian  Freeman. 

"  His  narrative  is  always  fun  of  great  interest ;  his  descriptive  powers  are  of  an  un 
common  order ;  the  romance  of  history  loses  nothing  at  his  hands  ;  he  paints  with  the 
power,  vigor,  and  effect  of  a  master." — The  Times. 

"  They  bring  the  past  days  of  old  England  vividly  before  the  reader,  and  impress  upon 
th->  mind  with  indelible  force,  the  living  images  of  the  puritans  as  well  as  the  cavalier?, 
whose  earnest  character  and  noble  deeds  lend  such  a  lively  interest  to  the  legends  of 
the  times  in  which  they  lived  and  fought,  loved  and  hated,  prayed  and  revelled?'— Nev- 
ark  Daily. 


REDFIELD'S  NEW  AND   POPULAR  PUBLICATIONS. 


CLOVERNOOK; 

Or,  Recollections  of  our  Neighborhood  in  the  West.  By  ALICE 
CARKY.  Illustrated  by  DARLEY.  One  vol.,  12mo.,  price  $1.00. 
(Third  edition.) 

"  Tn  this  volume  there  is  a  freshness  which  perpetually  chflrms  the  reader.  You  seem 
t?  be  made  free  of  western  homes  at  once." — Old  Colony  Memorial. 

"  Thpy  bear  the  true  stamp  of  genius— simple,  natural,  truthful — and  evince  a  keen 
sense  of  the  humor  and  pathos,  of  the  comedy  and  tragedy,  of  life  in  the  country."—  J 
Q  Wkittier. 


DREAM-LAND  BY  DAY-LIGHT: 

A  Panorama  of  Romance.     By  CAROLINE  CHESEBIIO'.     Illustrated 
by  DARLEY.     One  vol.,  12mo.,  price  $1.25.      (Second  edition.) 

"  These  simple  and  beautiful  stories  are  nil  highly  endued  with  an  exquisite  percep 
tion  of  natural  beauty,  with  which  is  combined  an  appreciative  sense  of  its  relation  to 
the  highest  moral  emotions."— Albany  State  Register. 

"  Gladly  do  we  greet  this  floweret  in  the  field  of  our  literature,  for  it  is  fragrant  with 
sweet  and  bright  with  hues  that  mark  it  to  be  of  Heaven's  own  planting." — Courier  and 
Enquirer. 

"There  is  a  depth  of  sentiment  and  feeling  not  ordinarily  met  with,  and  some  of  the 
noblest  faculties  and  affections  of  man's  nature  are  depicted  and  illustrated  by  the  skil 
ful  pen  of  the  authoress."—  Churchman. 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

By  WILLIAM  E.  AYTOUN,  Professor  of  Literature  and  Belles-Let- 
tres  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh  and  Editor  of  Blackwood'a 
Magazine.  One  vol.,  12mo.  cloth,  price  $1.00. 

"  Since  Lockhart  and  Macaulay's  ballads,  we  have  had  no  metrical  work  to  be  com 
pared  in  spirit,  vigor,  and  rhythm  with  this.  These  ballads  knbtdy  and  embalm  the 
chief  historical  incidents  of  Scottish  history— literally  in  'thoughts  that  breathe  and 
words  that  burn.'  They  are  full  of  lyric  energy,  graphic  description,  and  genuine  feel 
ing." — Home  Journal. 

"  The  fine  ballad  of  '  Montrose'  in  this  collection  is  alone  worth  the  price  of  the  book.' 
lloston  Transcript. 


THE  BOOK  OF  BALLADS. 
By  BON  GAULTIER.     One  volume,  12mo.,. cloth,  price  75  cents. 

"Here  is  a  book  for  everybody  who  loves  classic  fun.  It  is  made  up  of  ballads  of 
all  sorts,  each  a  capital  parody  upon  the  style  of  some  one 'of  the  best  lyric  writers  of 
the  time,  from  the  thundering  versification  of  Lockhart  and  Macaulay  to  the  sweetest 
and  simplest  strains  of  Wordsworth  and  Tennyson.  The  author  is  one  of  the  first 
scholars,  and  one  of  the  most  finished  writers  of  the  day,  and  this  production  is  but  the 
frolic  of  his  genius  in  play-time  "—Courier  and  Enquirer. 

"  We  do  not  know  to  whom  belongs  this  nom  de  plume,  but  he  is  certainly  a  humcrirt 
of  no  common  powrr." — Providence  Journal. 


REDFIELD'S  NEW  AND  POPULAR  PUBLICATIONS. 


ISA,  A  PILGRIMAGE. 
By  CAROLINE  CHESEBRO'.     One  vol.,  12mo.,  cloth,  price  $1.00. 

4i  The  Pilgrimage  is  fraught  throughout  with  scenes  of  thrilling  interest — romantic, 
yet  possessing  a  naturalness  that  seems  to  stamp  them  as  real ;  the  style  is  flowing  and 
easy,  chaste  and  beautiful." — Troy  Daily  Times. 

'•Miss  Chesebro"  is  evidently  a  thinker— she  skims  not  the  mere  surface  of  life,  hut 
plunges  boldly  into  the  hidden  mysteries  of  the  spirit,  by  which  she  is  warranted  in 
milking  her  startling  revelations  of  human  passion." — Christian  Freeman. 

"There  comes  out  in  this  book  the  evidence  of  an  inventive  mind,  a  cultivated  taste, 
an  exquisite  sensibility,  and  a  deep  knowledge  of  human  nature." — Albany  Argus. 

"  It  is  a  charming  book,  pervaded  by  a  vein  of  pure  ennobling  thought." — Troy  Whig. 

"  There  is  no  one  who  will  doubt  that  this  is  a  courageous  and  able  work,  displaying 
genius  and  depth  of  feeling,  and  striking  at  a  high  and  noble  aim  " — N.  Y.  Evangtlist. 

"  There  is  a  fine  vein  of  tenderness  running  through  the  story,  which  is  peculiarly 
une  of  passion  and  sentiment." — Arthur's  Home  Gazette. 


LECTURES  AND  MISCELLANIES. 
BY  HENRY  JAMES.     One  vol.,  12mo.,  cloth,   price  $1.25. 

"A  series  of  essays  by  one  of  the  most  generous  thinkers  and  sincere  lovers  of  truth 
in  the  country.  He  looks  at  society  from  an  independent  point  of  view,  and  with  the 
noblest  and  most  intelligent  sympathy." — Hnme  Journal. 

"This  is  the  production  of  a  mind  richly  endowed  of  a  very  peculiar  mould.  All 
will  concede  to  him  the  merit  of  a  vigorous  and  brilliant  intellect." — Albany  Argus. 

«'  A  perusal  of  the  essays  leads  us  to  thi\k,  not  merely  because  of  the  idt  as  which 
they  contain,  but  more  because  the  ideas  are  earnestly  put  forth,  and  the  subjects  dis 
cussed  are  interesting  and  important  to  every  one." — Worcester  National  &gis. 

"  They  have  attracted  much  attention  both  here  and  in  Europe,  where  the  author  ia 
considered  as  holding  a  distinctive  and  prominent  position  in  the  school  of  modern 
philosophy." — Albany  Atlas. 

"The  writer  wields  a  masterly  and  accurate  pen,  and  his, style  is  good."—  Boston 
Olive  Branch. 

"  It  will  have  many  .readers,  and  almost  as  many  admirers." — N.  Y.  Times. 


NAPIER'S  PENINSULAR   WAR. 

History  of  the  War  in  the  Peninsula,  and  in  the  South  of  France, 
from  the  Year  1807  to  1814.  BY  W.  F.  P.  NAPIER,  C.  B.,  Co]. 
43d  Reg.,  &c.  Complete  in  one  vol.,  8vo.,  price  $3.00. 

"We  believe  the  Literature  of  War  has  not  received  a  more  valuable  augmrntr.tion 
this  century  than  Col.  Napier's  justly  celebrated  work.  Though  a  gallant  combatant  in 
the  field,  he  is  an  impartial  historian." — Tribune. 

"  NAPIER'S  History,  in  addition  to  its  superior  literary  merits  and  truthful  fidelity, 
presents  strong  claims  upon  the  attention  of  all  American  citizens  ;  because  the  author 
is  a  large-souU-d  philanthropist,  and  an  inflexible  enemy  to  ecclesiastical  tyranny  and 
secular  despots." — Port. 

"  The  excellency  of  Napier's  History  results  from  the  writer's  happy  talent  for  im 
petuous,  straight-forward,  soul-stirring  narrative  and  picturing  forth  of  characters 
The  military  manoeuvre,  march,  and  fiery  onset,  the  whole  whirlwind  vicissitudes  o* 
the  desperate  fight,  he  describes  with  dramatic  force." — Merchants'  Magazine. 


REDFIELD  S    NEW    AND    POPULAR    PUBLICATIONS. 


THE  MASTER  BUILDER; 

Or,  Life  in  the  City.      By  DAY  KELLOGG  LEE,  author  of  "  Sum- 
merfield,  or  Life  on  the  Farm."     One  vol.,  12mo,  price  $1.00. 

"He  is  a  powerful  and  graphic  writer,  and  from  what  we  have  seen  of  the  pages  of 
the  '  Master  Builder,'  it  is  a  romance  of  excellent  aim  and  success." — Stole  Register. 

"  Tho  '  Master  Builder'  is  the  master  production.  It  is  romance  into  which  is  instilled 
the  reality  of  life:  and  incentives  are  put  forth  to  noble  exertion  and  virtue.  The  story 
is  pleasing — almost  fascinating  ;  the  moral  is  pure  arid  undefiled." — Daily  Times. 

"Its  description.-)  are,  many  of  them,  strikingly  beautiful ;  commingling  in  good  pro 
portions,  the  witty,  the  grotesque,  the  pathetic,  and  the  heroic.  It  may  be  read  with 
protit  as  well  as  pleasure."— Argus. 

"The  work  before  us  will  commend  itself  to  the  masses,  depicting  as  it  does  most 
graphically  the  struggles  and  privations  which  await  the  unknown  and  uncared-for 
Mechanic  in  his  journey  through  life.  It  is  what  might  be  called  a  romance,  but  not  of 
love,  jealousy  and  revenge  order." — Lockport  Courier. 

"  The  whole  scheme  of  the  story  is  well  worked  up  and  very  instructive." — Albany 
Express. 

>0 


GRISCOM  ON  VENTILATION. 

The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Air:  showing  its  Influence  in  Sustaining 
Life,  and  Producing  Disease,  with  Remarks  on  the  Ventilation 
of  Houses,  and  the  best  Methods  of  Securing  a  Pure  and  Whole 
some  Atmosphere  inside  of  Dwellings,  Churches,  Workshops,  &c. 
By  JOHN  H.  GRISCOM,  M.  D.  One  vol.  12rao,  $1.00. 

"This  comprehensive  treatise  should  be  read  by  all  who  wish  to  secure  health, 
and  especially  by  those  constructing  churches,  lecture-rooms,  school-houses,  &c.—  It 
is  undoubted,  that  many  diseases  are  created  and  spread  in  consequence  of  the  little 
attention  paid  to  proper  ventilation.  Dr.  G.  writes  knowingly  and  plainly  upon  this  all- 
important  topic."  —  Newark  Advertiser. 

"  The  whole  hook  is  a  complete  manual  of  the  subject  of  which  it  treats  ;  and  wo 
venture  to  say  that  the  builder  or  contriver  of  a  dwelling,  school-house,  church,  tin  a- 
tre,  ship,  or  steamboat,  who  neglects  to  inform  bimseli  of  the  momentous  truths  it 
asserts,  commits  virtually  a  crime  a«ain?t  society."  —  N.  Y.  Metropolis. 

"  When  shall  we  learn  to  estimate"  at  their  proper  value,  pure  water  and  pure  air, 
which  God  provided  for  man  before  he  made  man,  and  a  very  long  time  before  he 
permitted  the  existence  of  a  doctor  ">  We  commend  the  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Air  to  our 
renders,  assuring  them  that  they  will  find  it  to  contain  directions  for  the  ventilation  of 
dwellings,  which  every  one  who  values  health  and  comfort  should  put  in  practice."  — 
IT.  Y.  Dispatch. 


HAGAR,  A  STORY  OF  TO-DAY. 

By  ALICE  CAREY,   author  of  "  Clovernook,"   "  Lyra,   and  Other 
'Poems,"  &c.     One  vol.,  12mo,  price  $1.00. 

'•A  story  of  rural  and  domestic  life,  abounding  in  humor,  pathos,  and  that  natural 
ness  in  character  and  conduct  which  made  '  Clovernook'  so  great  a  favorite  last  season. 
Pas.-Rires  in  '  Ilagar'  are  written  with  extraordinary  power,  its  moral  is  striking  and 
just,  and  the  book  will  inevitably  be  one  of  the  most  popular  productions  of  the  sea 
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"She  has  a  fine,  rich,  and  purely  original  genius.  Her  country  stories  are  almost 
unequaled."  —  Knickerbocker  Magazine 

"  The  Times  speaks  of  Alice  Carey  as  standing  at  the  head  of  the  living  female  wri 
ters  of  America.  We  go  even  farther  in  our  favorable  judgment,  and  express  the  opin 
ion  that  among  those  living  or  dead,  she  has  had  no  equal  in  this  country  ;  and  we  know 
of  few  in  the  annals  of  English  literature  who  have  exhibited  superior  gifts  of  real  po 
etic  genius."—  Th'  (Portland,  Me.)  Eclectic. 


CCNTEMPOEABY  BIOGRAPHY. 


OR  SKETCHES  OF  LIVING  NOTABLES, 

AUTHORS  ENGINEERS  PHILANTHROPISTS 

ARCHITECTS         JOURNALISTS  PREACHERS 

ARTISTS  MINISTERS  SAVANS 

COMPOSERS  MONARCHS  STATESMEN 

DEMAGOGUES       NOVELISTS  TRAVELLERS 

DIVINES  POLITICIANS  VOYAGERS 

DRAMATISTS          POETS  WARRIORS 

In  One  Vol.,  I2mo,  containing  nearly  Nine  Hundred  Biograph* 
ical  Sketches  —  PRICE  $1.50. 

"  I  am  glad  to  learn  that  you  are  publishing  this  work.  It  is  precisely  that  kind  of 
information  thnt  every  public  and  intelligent  man  desires  to  see,  especially  in  reference 
to  the  distinguished  men  of  Europe,  but  which  I  have  found  it  extremely  difficult  to 
obtain."  —  Extract  from  a  Letter  of  the  President  of  the  United  States  to  the  publisher. 

'•  In  its  practical  usefulness  this  work  will  supply  a  most  important  desideratum."  — 
Courier  ff  Enquirer. 

•'  It  forms  a  valuable  manual  for  reference,  especially  in  the  American  department, 
which  WR  can  not  well  do  without  ;  we  commend  it  to  the  attention  of  our  '  reading 
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"Just  the  book  we  have  desired  a  hundred  times,  brief,  statistical  and  biographical 
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"  It  Is  a  book  of  reference  which  every  newspaper  reader  should  have  at  his  elbow  — 
os  indispensable  as  a  map  or  a  dictionary  —  and  from  which  the  best-informed  will  de 
rive  instruction  and  pleasure."  —  Erangelist. 

"  This  book  therefore  tills  a  place  in  literature  ;  and  once  published,  we  do  not  seo 
how  any  one  could  do  without  it."  —  Albany  Express. 

"It  is  evidently  compiled  with  great  care  and  labor,  and  every  possible  means  seems 
to  have  been  used  to  secure  the  highest  degree  of  correctness.  It  contains  a  great  deal 
of  valuable  information,  and  is  admirable  as  a  book  of  reference."  —  Albany  Argus. 

"It  is,  to  our  notion,  the  most  valuable  collection  of  contemporary  biogrnphies  yet 
made  in  this  or  any  other  country.  The  author  acknowledges  that  its  compilation  was 
a  'labor  of  care  and  responsibility.'  We  believe  him,  and  we  give  him  credit  lor  hav 
in<r  executed  that  labor  after  a  fashion  that  will  command  general  and  lasting  approv 
al."  —  Sunday  Times,  and  Noah's  Wetkly  Mtssejiger. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  works  lately  issued—  valuable  not  only  for  general 
reading  and  study,  but  as  a  book  oi  reference.  It  is  certainly  the  fullest  collection  of 
contemporary  Biographies  yet  made  in  this  country."  —  Troy  Daily  Times. 

"  This  is  emphatically  a  book  worthy  of  the  name,  and  will  secure  an  extended  pop 
ularity."  —  Detroit  Daily  Advertiser. 

"A  book  of  reference  unequalled  in  either  value  or  interest.  It  is  indeed  a  grand  sup 
plement  and  appendix  to  the  modern  histories,  to  the  reviews,  to  the  daily  newspapers 
—a  book  which  a  man  anxious  to  be  regarded  as  intelligent  and  well-informed,  can  no 
more  do  without  than  a  churchman  can  do  without  his  prayer  book,  a  sailor  his  navi 
gator,  or  a  Wall  street  man  his  almanac  and  interest  tables/'  —  New  York  Day  Book. 

"The  volume  once  known  will  be  found  indispensable,  and  will  prove  a  constant 
rource  of  information  to  readers  at  lurg,;."  —  rV.  Y.  Reveille. 

"  For  a  book  of  reference,  this  volume  will  recommend  itself  as  an  invaluable  com 
panion  in  the  library,  office,  and  studio."  —  Northern  llitdgct. 

"  It  is  a  living  breathing  epitome  of  the  day,  a  directory  to  that  wide  phantasmagoria 
we  call  the  world."—  Wall  Street  Journal. 

"We  know  of  no  more  valuable  book  to  authors,  editors,  statemen,  and  all  who 
would  be  'up  with  the  time,'  than  this."  —  Spirit  of  the  Times. 

"  Men  of  all  nations,  creeds  and  parties,  appear  to  be  treated  in  a  kindly  spirit.  The 
work  will  be  found  a  useful  supplement  to  the  ordinary  biographical  dictionaries."  — 
Commercial  Advertiser. 

"The  value  of  such  a  work  can  scarcely  be  over-estimated.  To  the  statesman  and 
philanthropist,  as  well  as  the  scholar  and  business  man,  it  will  be  found  of  great  con 
venience  as  a  reference  book,  and  must  soon  be  considered  as  indispensable  to  a  library 
aa  Webster's  Dictionary."  —  Lockport  Courier. 


1529858 


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